Deeper Than All Roses
by Stemwinder
Summary: INCOMPLETE Sadly, this story has stalled, but if my muse ever returns, it is the sequel to "Love Comes".An old friend drops by to see our favorite diva, and she notices he's taken an interest in someone new. Also, Christine has some . . . interesting news
1. Prologue: A New Life

**_Deeper Than All Roses_**

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Disclaimer: I own nothing that does not reside in my own imagination . . . Gaston Leroux created the tale of the _Phantom Of The Opera_. Many writers have taken that tale and given a piece of themselves to it, I merely do the same. Loosely based off of the Susan Kay version, but with an alternate ending. 

Premise: A few months after Erik and Christine's wedding, an old friend drops by to see our favorite diva, and she notices he's taken an interest in someone new. Also, Christine returns to the house on the lake with some . . . interesting news.

Timeline: April 1882.

Part of the "Love Comes To Those Who Believe" universe. E/C warning!

Feedback: Sure, why not? All constructive criticism and high praise readily accepted. Flames? I have marshmallows and sticks at the ready; I do so enjoy a good roast!

_Though I did not have this beta read, I felt it only fair to thank once again all the people who read and reviewed this story's predecessor, "Love Comes . . ." because if it weren't for you guys, I don't know that I'd undertake another one like this. As I said before, my muse is a fickle creature; she gave me one short ficlet in this universe because of an unanswered question, and now this one because life of course, goes on after the story is over! I don't know how long this one will be, but here it is for all of you who wanted to read more!_

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**Prologue: A New Life**

Christine Laramie, nee Daae, sat at the vanity in her dressing room. So many things had changed for her in the past two years she had spent in at the Opera. Her mind drifted back to her early days as a dancer in the corps de ballet. For then, she had known Erik merely as her Angel of Music, and now . . . 

_'Now, I think I almost know him better than I know myself.'_

She stared at the reflection in the mirror, so familiar, but still so changed from the young ingénue she had been back then. Now, there was a special softness, the kind only brought on by love. The sparkle that had been missing for so long after her father's death had finally returned to her. And a perpetual smile had replaced the worried creases around her mouth.

A knock sounded on the door, and Christine called out, "Come."

"Are you almost ready?" Meg Giry asked.

Christine turned to face her friend, and found her already in her ballet costume. "Yes, it's almost time, isn't it?"

"Just about. After all, this is the last performance for a month!"

"Yes, I know, I think we all have a bit of the jitters tonight. A whole month off, just think Meg!"

"Do you and Erik have plans for the month?" Meg asked as Christine closed the door behind them and they walked along the bustling hallway.

"We're leaving for Rouen in a few days, actually. Marie and Gerard have written several times, and they seem to miss us."

"I'm not surprised," Meg returned Christine's smile as they both remembered the time spent at Degardeau cottage that past Christmas. "Do give them both my best! But why not leave tomorrow?"

"Well, that you would have to ask Erik," Christine replied. "He won't tell me, other than he has some things to take care of before leaving."

"Is he always so cryptic?"

"To a fault, but it doesn't matter."

"Oh, I know it doesn't, it only makes you love the man more," Meg giggled as they reached the backstage area. "You would think after four months of marriage the honeymoon would have started to wear off!"

Christine chuckled, "I should hope not, Meg."

"Is he watching tonight?"

"Yes, he promised to be here."

"Good."

"Meg Giry!" the imposing voice came from behind.

"Yes Maman?" Meg nearly squeaked as Madame Giry made her way around the two girls and came face to face with her daughter.

"Have you warmed up?"

"Yes Maman."

"Are you in position?"  
  


Meg ducked her head, and repeated the words her mother had used against her time and time again, "No, Maman, I belong with the other dancers, not gossiping with the singers."

"Then go take your position with the other dancers!"

Meg scurried away from Christine and Madame Giry. Madame Giry then turned to look at Christine, her face stern.

"And have you warmed up?"

"Yes, Madame Giry."

"I know you will do wonderful tonight, fear not." Madame Giry replied, and she walked over to where the dancers were lining up.

Christine sighed with relief, and then took a deep breath. And then, she heard in her head, the voice of her angel, her Erik, giving her confidence as he always did, as only he knew how, and she walked to take her place in the wings as the curtain rose on _La Traviata._

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She felt his presence even before her hand reached for the doorknob of the dressing room.

"You were magnificent, _mon ange,_" he whispered very near her ear.

She smiled, and turned to face her beloved. Since their return to Paris, he had become braver, coming out in the light of day more and more, even though he still haunted the bowels of the Opera. That had become a private joke amongst them in a way, that only four people backstage knew that the man in the proper gentleman's attire and white mask who was now known as Erik Laramie, husband of Christine Laramie, was indeed the same person who used to reign terror on the entire establishment.

"And was it you who started the standing ovation tonight?" she joked.

Erik pulled a bouquet of red and white roses from behind his back, "If I had not been in Box Five, I would have. For you."

Christine blushed, even now, after four months of marriage; his more romantic gestures could still make her blush.

It was a quality her husband found very attractive indeed.

"Thank you, _mon amour,_" she whispered.

Erik reached around her, and opened the dressing room door for the both of them. Once ensconced inside the privacy of the room, they found themselves wrapped in each other's arms.

"A month off," she sighed.

"I think we will find something for you to occupy your time with," Erik chuckled.

"The thought of time off does not distress me as it did a year ago, Erik," Christine murmured. "Not anymore." Her hands reached up to caress the cheek covered in the mask, her fingers playing along its edge so that she could feel his skin.

A slow shudder went through his tall frame, and his grip on her tightened. "There really should be a lock on that door, you know."

"Indeed, am I sensing indecent thoughts in you Erik?" Christine smirked.

Erik slowly withdrew from her embrace, yet took her hand in his own, and brought it to his lips with a flourish. The twinkle in his eyes revealed his thoughts, thoughts his wife knew all too well.

"Let me get changed," Christine whispered, and withdrew her hand and made her way behind the dressing screen. Five minutes later, she came out from behind the screen, dressed in her street clothes, and carrying her cape over her arm. "The Rue Scribe entrance tonight?"

"You know full well that I can not operate the mirror from this side," Erik winked.

"So you've told me, but somehow, I shall always wonder about that," Christine replied as she took the arm he offered, and they exited the dressing room once again. "What happened to the man who once told me he could make anything disappear if he really wanted to?"

"He's on vacation for a month," Erik smiled behind the mask as they walked down the now nearly empty corridors.

"Well then, we shall just have to find something else to occupy his time with. You wrote to Marie and Gerard already?"  
  


"Yes, and Nadir delivered their answer this afternoon, they can not wait to see us, or so they said in the letter. I know that you miss Marie."

"Yes, I do," Christine smiled. "And as much as you hate to admit it, you miss Gerard as well."

"Perhaps," Erik answered cryptically. He looked Christine in the eye long enough for her to know that he was evading on purpose.

Christine merely smiled back at him knowingly as they walked down the G_rand Escalier and out the front of the Opera house._

"Do we have any prior engagements before we leave?" Erik asked.

"Only a dinner with Meg and Madame Giry tomorrow night, as far as I know," Christine replied.

"No way of getting out of that, is there?"

"No, we promised her. She's as stubborn about getting you back out into the world as I am, you know that."

"Yes, I have become quite aware of that fact over the past few months. Between the two of you, you've done a pretty good job of it, haven't you?"

"Well . . . she still thinks you need to get out more."

"I've been working."

"Yes, I know you have my love. Too hard sometimes, I think."

"Better to be doing something useful instead of spending my days haunting the Opera, am I right?"

"That's my line," Christine laughed. "Although it is funny to me now when we hear the ballet rats talk about the Phantom, it's all Meg can do sometimes not to laugh."

"My reputation still supercedes me then?"

"I doubt you will ever be completely rid of that reputation, Erik. You played the ghost for too long."

"Six years," Erik sighed.

"Still, it's long enough for a legend to begin, and you made quite a legend. Meg, from time to time, adds tales you know. She says the place is a bit dull without the Phantom, though she knows now the man behind the myth."

"Meg should be a Gothic writer."

"Perhaps one day. Right now, she wants to dance, until she can't anymore." Christine glanced over at Erik once more, and she could see his eyes roll behind the mask. "You don't believe me, ask her yourself tomorrow."

"I've heard some of Meg's tales, remember? I still say she is better suited to writing Gothic novels."

"That's your opinion."

Erik sighed as they finally reached the banks of the underground lake. After helping Christine into the boat, he pushed off the shore, and the rest of the journey continued in a comfortable silence. Once on the other side, Erik tied the boat to its dock, and helped Christine out of it, and they entered their home.

Gone from Erik's suite was the coffin, replaced with a magnificent four poster bed. In Christine's old suite, which she no longer used, still sat the bed Erik had been born in, which was now there in case they ever did have company. Meg had spent a night or two in that room since the marriage, and once Nadir had passed a night there, but they never entertained anyone else in their secret house. Erik was adamant that no one else know the way to the underground lair.

Now that they were alone once more, Erik took Christine in his arms and welcomed his wife home in a proper fashion.

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	2. Chapter One: Your Slightest Look

**Chapter One: Your Slightest Look**

The dawn crept slowly over Paris, that magnificent old city, its fingers reaching through the upper windows of the Opera house. Yet down below, ensconced in their own private world, two bodies lay entwined ignorant of the morning. Soft sighs of contentment gently touched the black silence, and then a small animal jumped up onto the bed, startling its occupants.

"What the-" Erik gasped as he bolted upright, before realization came to him. "Ayesha."

Christine, still lying down and out of Erik's eyesight, rolled her eyes. She heard the loud purring that signaled the cat's contentment, and decided not to say a word.

The cat had tried, mightily Christine was sure, to show her displeasure of this woman she thought to be an interloper in her only relationship. Though Christine would still at times swear that the cat had positively human attributes, she knew that to say something would only bring on an argument she was not willing to bring on. Although at one point, Erik had figured out that she was a bit jealous of the cat, and it gave him a good deal of mirth.

_~~~~~_

_"She has it in for me, I swear!" Christine muttered after yet another encounter with Ayesha. She'd been thanking her lucky stars that Erik was not within earshot, when the voice called out from right behind her._

_"Who has it in for you?"_

_Christine spun around, still holding her hand where she'd been scratched by the cat, to face her husband._

_"Nothing.__ I was merely . . . talking to myself."_

_With his usual concern, Erik looked down at the way she was holding her left hand, and grasped it within his larger one. He turned it over and saw the scratch. Without a word, he led her to the kitchen table and had her sit down in one of the chairs, then he took what he needed from one of the cabinets, and tended to the wound._

_"She's really not that hard to get along with," Erik said softly as he finished with his ministrations. He stood to put the leftover supplies back into the cabinet._

_"That's because you're not a woman. She's utterly protective of you, Erik, to a fault, and she seems to think there's not enough room for two females here."_

_Erik's back stiffened for a moment, and then he started shaking uncontrollably._

_At first, Christine did not understand, and she shot up from the table and tried to get him to face her. He refused to turn at first, and her worry deepened._

_"Erik, what's wrong? Please, talk to me, look at me, anything!"_

_Finally, unable to allow her to worry anymore, Erik turned to face her, and she saw at once that there was no look of pain etched on his face, but another look instead. A look she'd seen from time to time, but never to this extent. Then she realized he was shaking because he was laughing, but trying not to laugh out loud._

_"You think it's funny!"_

_After a few moments of uncontrolled mirth, Erik finally stopped laughing and walked over to where Christine had stalked to. "You have to admit, you being jealous of a cat is a little ridiculous."_

_"I am not jealous. I was merely stating a point."_

_Without another word, Erik drew her resisting form into his arms, and then lowered his lips to hers. A moment passed where she tried to remain hard to his embrace, and then she softened, and threw herself into the kiss._

_When he drew back, her eyes were crossed with passion. "Now, have I ever kissed Ayesha like that? You have nothing to be jealous of."_

_Christine's eyes uncrossed, "But I'm not jealo-"_

_Erik's lips descended again, cutting off her argument, and then he lifted her off the ground, and carried her to the bedroom, where all argument ceased._

_~~~~~_

A smile played around Christine's lips as the rest of the memory played in her mind. It had been a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.

Erik lay back down beside his wife, his arm wrapping itself around her middle and spooning her to him as he gently kissed her bare throat. She squirmed slightly, and took in a sharp breath of surprise, a breath which quickly turned to a soft mewling sound as Erik continued to rain kisses along her throat. Finally unable to stand any more, Christine turned to face him.

"Good morning _mon__ amour," he whispered softly._

"_Bonjour mon ange," Christine replied, her lips then seeking out his for a proper good morning._

An hour later, both replete by the morning's activities, finally made their way out of the bedchamber and into the rest of the lair.

"No practice today," Erik teased, "Whatever will you do with yourself for the next month?"

"Well, we're leaving for Rouen in two days, right? Making sure everything here is in order before going then."

Erik chuckled as he drew Christine close once more and placed a peck on her lips.

"And besides Erik, I'm sure you have things that you wish to occupy yourself with until we go."

"Yes, I do, well, one thing actually."

"And that is?"

"You."

Christine smiled brightly.

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"Well, it's about time!" Meg teased lightly as Erik and Christine made their way into the small café where Meg insisted that they meet for dinner at least every other week. This week, she had brought her mother along, and the ballet mistress smiled gently as the married couple sat themselves at the table.

"I'm sorry, but we were unavoidably detained Meg," Erik replied, a smile playing around his exposed lips.

"Yes, someone decided to take the long way here," Christine chided.

Erik glanced around the café, his eyes scouring the other patrons in an age old habit of alertness to his surroundings. Neither Erik nor Christine had failed to notice the stares as they made their way in, but such happened every time they stepped out into public, except for backstage at the opera, where Erik's countenance was now just another face in the crowd.

"Wouldn't you say Erik?"

Erik's head snapped back to his dinner companions as Meg's voice cut through his thoughts. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Meg shook her head, they repeated much the same scene every time for the first twenty minutes or so before Erik readjusted to his surroundings and started to relax a little. "I was just saying that when we come back from break, that we're supposed to begin a run of _Aida_ and I thought that it was a good choice to begin the new season."

"An excellent choice," Erik agreed readily as he glanced towards his wife, who was smiling up at him. The memory of her in the wedding dress as they practiced the _Terra, Addio_ had a new meaning to them now, as being part of the catalyst to them finally revealing their feelings to one another.  "I've always said though that the final scene really should be performed in a wedding dress."

"That would actually work!" Meg exclaimed with excitement, "Why don't you suggest it to Messieurs Firmin and Andre after break?"

"You forget Meg," Madame Giry interrupted, "That though we know of Erik's background in music, the managers most certainly do not."

Meg looked to her mother, thoroughly chastised, "I didn't mean tell them as Erik, Christine's husband, I only meant . . ."

"Leaving them a note?" Madame Giry answered.

"As the ghost," Erik elaborated.

"Yes Maman, Erik, exactly. You've noticed they've started listening when he does that, haven't you?"

Christine chuckled, "Well, I'm sure there are reasons they've started listening, like the fact they've finally had to admit to themselves that he knows more about music than they do!"

The other three occupants of the table turned in shock to face Christine, and it was finally Madame Giry who choked out, "And when did they do that?"

"Shortly before Christmas, I overheard them when they were trying to find a temporary replacement for Meg and I. Oh, don't give me that look, Erik, you've eavesdropped on them enough times, and on Poligny and Debienne for years before that, what's so wrong with me listening in once, and it wasn't as if I meant to do it, I just happened by the conversation."

Erik shook his head ruefully, "I've been a bad influence on you, I seem to remember a time when you were absolutely abhorred that I would eavesdrop."

"Well, that was . . ." Christine trailed off, blushing brightly, "different."

Erik laughed softly, and took Christine's hand in his, "And I wonder how else I have influenced you?"

"All for the good my love, I assure you," Christine answered before turning back towards their companions, her brow furrowing as she saw the expressions on their faces. Meg's eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets, and Madame Giry's face was fraught with anxiety, both of them with their eyes trained on the doorway.

Erik noticed the silence at the same time Christine did, and they both turned to face the door at the same time.

_'We're going to have to find another place to meet then,' _he thought as he saw what had led the others to turn so sharply.

"He's back," Christine whispered, hoping no one heard her as she stared at her childhood friend.

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The rest of the dinner had been a quiet and strained affair as the four occupants of the far table tried not to mention the man who had re-appeared into their lives after a four month absence. All of them sincerely had hoped that even though it was obvious they had been seen by the Vicomte, that he would not come to join them.

Thankfully, he had not. Instead, he sat on the opposite side of the room, though his eyes never left the table in the corner.

Christine watched Meg through the meal as the only way she could see Raoul was as a reflection in her friend's eyes. Meg kept glancing towards the table on the other side of the room where Raoul was sitting, as she alternatively blushed or smiled gently. A thought occurred to Christine, but she quickly shook it from her head as they finished their dinner, and made to leave.

The journey back to the lair was just as quiet as both Erik and Christine ruminated in their own thoughts, Christine's coming back to the idea that had managed to implant itself in her head as she watched her best friend.

"That was . . . rather tense," Erik finally commented as he helped Christine remove her cape and hung it on the coat rack just inside the door of the lair.

"It started out okay," Christine sighed. "Erik?"

Erik turned to gaze at his wife, this beautiful woman who had made his life complete, his body still tense as he rasped out, "Yes?"

Christine covered the space between them and laid a gentle hand on his chest, gazing up lovingly into his eyes, "I love you, you know that, don't you?"

Erik relaxed slightly, and his lips turned up as his eyes alighted behind the mask. "And I you, _mon__ ange."_

Her hands reached up and removed the mask that he still refused to leave the house without, and sat it aside before standing on her tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss upon his lips, a kiss that quickly deepened, and before long, they found themselves trapped once more in the maelstrom of passion that was uniquely theirs.

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"Meg?" Madame Giry questioned her daughter as soon as they were comfortably sitting before the fire in their drawing room.

"Yes Maman?"

"I would suggest that we find a new place for these meetings if you keep up your plan with Christine to draw Erik out into the world. Granted, I agree with the both of you, and I know that neither of them holds bad feelings toward the Vicomte de Chagny, but the tension tonight after his arrival can not be good for either of them, especially as they have not been married all that long yet. I had hoped," she paused and sighed, "I had hoped when we had not seen him at the Opera recently that perhaps he had . . . moved on."

Meg frowned, her brown eyes serious as she shook her blonde curls, "I have no intention of putting Erik or Christine through any pain, you must know that Maman. In fact, I rather agree with you, they're not ready for him to just jump back into the picture."

Madame Giry nodded before standing, "Good girl. Now, I'm ready to head to bed, please don't stay up too late darling. I know that we don't have to be at practice early in the morning, but it's not good to get into bad habits you know."

Meg smiled gently up at her mother, "I won't Maman, I promise, I just want to finish this one chapter, and I've only got five pages of it to go, then I'll go to bed."

Madame Giry hugged her daughter gently before heading up the stairs, leaving Meg alone with her thoughts in the dim light.

_I would never want to hurt Christine, she's my best friend, and she loves Erik, I know that, but he's so sensitive sometimes, so . . . insecure. I understand why. His face. Maman doesn't know that I've seen, even if it was only that once, when Christine removed his mask at the wedding._

_That face! No wonder he wants to hide. I know, it doesn't make a difference to me, I know him to be a gentle soul, but that face is enough to shock anyone. So different from the Vicomte. Such a handsome man, and so . . . one look and you could tell he was deeply in love with Christine. I wonder if she knows he was in __Rouen__ at Christmas? I could never tell her that, never burden her with the knowledge if she doesn't know on her own. I doubt she realizes he was in the nave, she wouldn't have noticed Nadir or I looking back and seeing him. Wouldn't have noticed Nadir's tensing as he realized who was there, ready to protect his friend it seemed. I would have helped. I know Christine cares for Raoul, but it's not the same, she's so . . . so different with Erik than she ever was with Raoul. You can see by one look in her eyes as she looks at Erik just how much she loves that man. She never looked that way with the Vicomte. Goes to show you that looks and money aren't always everything._

_And yet, there's something about the Vicomte, something that has just as much attraction power as Erik does. Yes, I can't deny that Erik holds a certain power all of his own. That voice, as smooth as silk, and the commanding stance. But he is Christine's, and I'm glad they found each other._

_The Vicomte though, he's a handsome man I suppose, and those eyes. How at times after Christine chose to cast her fate with Erik I would see him around the Opera, that haunted look in his eyes, how heartbroken he was, and how you just wanted to take him to heart and show him . . . _

_Show him what, Meg? Shake those thoughts from your head, he is still after all in love with Christine, and you? You're just a member of the corps de ballet, beneath his notice._

_But he did notice you. What was Christine when he first appeared on the scene? She was still a member of the corps at the time, before Andre and Firmin would promote her to la Carlotta's understudy, then to principal soprano after her accident. He noticed you, enough to ask where his love was. What more would he want from a mousy little girl such as yourself?_

Meg shook her head once more and tried to look down on the book in her hands. She closed it with a soft slap and returned it to the bookshelf, then slowly made her way up the stairs to her little room, where she lay in bed awake and immersed in her thoughts until the sun arose the next morning.

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	3. Chapter Two: Only Something in Me Unders...

**Chapter Two: Only Something in Me Understands**

Meg made her way towards the Opera house the next afternoon, having made plans with Christine to help her pack for the journey to Rouen, and Degardeau Cottage. She quickly made her way through the Rue Scribe entrance and waited upon the banks of the lake for someone to come with the boat to ferry her across.

Very few people knew the secret of the lair, and it filled Meg with immense pleasure when she had been trusted enough to make the journey to Christine's new home. Though a part of Meg had at first rebelled at the thought of being shut up without natural sunlight, she soon got over her initial fear of the underground house. It was, she realized, filled with enough love to shine brighter than the sun since Christine had been there. The light female touches were now evident in what had once been a bachelor residence.

_I wonder if they will say anything about last night,_ Meg thought, the idea sending a shiver of anticipation and trepidation down her spine as she saw the boat making its way across the lake in the distance.

"Good afternoon Meg," Erik said softly as he slid the boat up to the side of the dock and reached out a hand to help Meg embark.

"Good afternoon Erik," Meg smiled back at the masked man. "How are you today? Looking forward to your journey?"  
  


"In a sense, yes," Erik answered honestly. "Christine is positively ecstatic over seeing Marie and Gerard again."

"I don't doubt it, she and Marie became rather close before Christmas you know."

"Yes, I know. They've asked about you."

"They have?"

"Of course they did. Marie is wondering when you're going to come back with us."

Meg chuckled, she had got on famously with Marie Degardeau over the Christmas holiday when she had stayed with them in Rouen as Erik and Christine spent their honeymoon at a home which had belonged to Erik's father on the other side of town. The six of them, for Nadir had been there as well, had made many wonderful memories, all of which Meg would always treasure. Marie had been a gentle and loving soul who had taken the two younger women under her wing rather quickly. Sometimes Meg wondered if the older woman wasn't a bit lonely, even though she had a very loving husband, for female friends.

They had reached the other side of the lake while Meg was musing in her thoughts, and Erik quickly tied the boat to the pole, and stepped out onto the wooden planks before helping Meg out of the small vessel. Then they entered the lair, where Christine was waiting in the drawing room. He quickly bestowed a kiss on her forehead before leaving the two women to their 'girl talk.'

"Ah, there you two are."

Meg smiled at her friend as Christine took Meg's hand and lead her towards the bed chamber.

"I absolutely need your help deciding what to take, Meg! Erik's already packed, and as you can see," she chuckled as she watched her husband heading towards the music room, "we interrupted him in mid composition I do believe. I had to promise to let him get right back to his work before he would go across the lake to get you!"

Meg laughed at Christine's obvious good mood as they went about the task of selecting garments that would travel well as well as look good on Christine.

"Do you know what you will be doing while in Rouen?" Meg asked.

"Well, I do know that Gerard and Marie have at least one get together planned for the time we're there. Nothing as spectacular as the masquerade they threw Christmas Eve of course, they know how Erik is around crowds, but I believe Michel and Danielle are supposed to come for dinner, and of course they already know about . . . the mask."

Meg nodded. Michel and Danielle de Calliente were close friends of the Degardeau's, and had of course, asked about the mask. Of course, they had not asked within Erik's hearing, but they knew enough and were discreet enough that Erik had begun to feel somewhat comfortable around them.

  
"And of course, even a small dinner party requires proper dress. Erik had no trouble in that department, men have it so easy sometimes, comparatively, have you noticed that Meg?"

"Only recently," Meg joked. "Oh don't look so shocked Christine! Of course I've noticed that men seem to have such an easy time with fashion. I mean, there's not much variation on a white dress shirt and coat, is there? I mean, of course there are different style coats, but not nearly as many as there are dresses, are there? I like that blue one there, it really brings out your eyes, is it new?"

"Erik's insistence the last time we went to the Rue St. Patrice, he said rather the same thing you just did," Christine giggled, her blue eyes dancing at the memory the dress was invoking. "If I remember right, he strangled a bit when he first saw me in it, I rather think it would be fun to bring this one, and it does travel rather well." That said, she proceeded to carefully pack the garment. "Now, there's something I've been dying to ask you since last night, but I didn't dare with Erik around."

"You're sure he won't hear anyway? Didn't you once tell me he could hear everything in the Opera house?"

"Not quite everything," Christine replied, her face going somber for a moment as her ears strained to hear the music coming from the music room, "Besides, he's too busy right now composing, you can hear the piano from here. He'll be entranced with the music for a few hours at least, he generally is when he's got a new piece floating in his head, and I know he wants to get this one down onto paper before we leave in the morning. Now, my question. Why were you and your mother so afraid to talk last night after Raoul showed up at the café?"

Meg's eyes widened slightly, she hadn't been sure what Christine was about to ask. "Well, Maman just thought it was a bit . . . uncomfortable, knowing the relationship you used to have with the Vicomte; after all, everyone thought you would marry him."

Christine shook her head sadly, "Yes, I know they did, even Raoul did. I know how much I hurt him, and I wish there had been a way without hurting him, but I had to be true to myself, Meg, I just couldn't marry him. I love him, but . . . not the way I love Erik."

"I know, you told me that once."

"And Erik knows that Raoul and I will always be friends, even if we haven't talked in . . . four months! Has it been that long since he was at the Opera?"

"Roughly, he's kept himself scarce since you married Erik."

"I suppose that should not surprise me, I mean, it must have hurt. But if our paths cross, I didn't intend to just ignore him, you understand? He's still a friend, and I have worried when he just seemed to disappear like that. I had not heard anything in so long, that last night to see he was at least okay was a bit of a relief, but the tension in the room was . . . it was so strange, Meg! One moment the four of us were having a rather good time, discussing the upcoming season and joking and laughing like we always do, then the next this pallor seemed to come over us, and we couldn't shake it! And then . . ." Christine trailed off as the thought which had crossed her mind the evening before as she watched her friend flitted through her head once more before she quickly cast it aside, "never mind. Nothing important."

"What is it, Christine?"

"It's nothing, Meg, honestly, just this . . . weird feeling I had, but it's so stupid."

"Christine Laramie! You're hiding something!"

Christine glanced at Meg, and saw the blush that had crept onto her friend's cheeks. '_Maybe not the only one Meg darling, I just don't want to sound stupid if I tell you my suspicions!' Christine shook her head in the negative._

"Christine, out with it, what's bothering you?"

"I told you, it was just this strange thought, not even really a thought as a . . . feeling, nothing really important at all."

Meg shook her head, "I thought you were done with hiding things?"

"Meg, I'm not hiding anything, it's just a stupid thought and I feel kinda stupid for having it is all."

"You're not in love with Raoul, are you?"

Christine's eyes widened in horror, "Meg, how could you even ask that? Of course I'm not in love with Raoul!"

"I didn't think so, but Maman was a bit worried about it. Oh, don't give me that look Christine, she didn't say anything, I could just tell."

Christine held up another dress, "What about this one?"

Meg clucked softly, but allowed the subject to drop. "It's lovely, but not nearly as lovely as . . ." she trailed off as she hunted through the wardrobe, "this one."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

****

_'That was too close,'_ Meg thought as she closed the Rue Scribe gate. _'She's got an idea and you know it Meg Giry! What would you have said if she had asked? Would you have told her the truth about just how much you've been thinking about the Vicomte?_

_No, of course not.__ You'd have been too afraid that such knowledge would hurt her. After all, even if she's not in love with him, she does care for him. What would she think of all this?_

_It doesn't matter. The thoughts of men are not for me, I should be concentrating on more important matters. Like dancing. Maman expects so much for me to follow her footsteps, after my career at the Opera is over, then I should take over as ballet mistress from her, though we both know that is some years down the road._

She began to walk along the darkening Paris streets, lost in her thoughts and not paying attention to her direction when suddenly her path was blocked by a rather large object, and object she slammed into with more force than she could have thought possible.

"I say," a familiar sounding voice called out, "are you all right? You really should watch where you're heading, I daresay you could have been in the middle of the street and not noticed if a brougham ran you over!"

Meg shook herself out of her reverie and looked up to see who it was that she had run into, not placing the voice at first, and found the subject of her musings before her. The blush spread through her cheeks as the Vicomte looked down at her with a small smile.

"I'm . . . I'm . . ." she stammered, unable to get her tongue to unstick from the roof of her mouth. "I'm . . . okay. I'm sorry, I really should have been watching where I was going!"

"It's all right, it's not every day that I get run over by a young woman," Raoul joked. "Meg, isn't it?"

Meg's eyes widened, she hadn't realized that he would remember her name, "Yes Monsieur le Vicomte."

Raoul shook his head, "Please, its Raoul. Where are you going in such a hurry you weren't watching where you were going?"

"I was heading home," Meg blushed brightly once more as Raoul smiled down at her.

"Well then, perhaps you would allow me to escort you, so that you don't wind up in the middle of the street and run over by a brougham? It would be a waste of a fine dancer should it happen!"

Meg chuckled at his candor, "I would be delighted, Raoul."__

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

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Author's Notes:

Deidre: Yes, Raoul has caused some trouble in the past, but much as I try, though I don't absolutely love the character, I can't hate him either. His only crime was falling in love with the same woman that Erik did, and though I LOVE seeing E and C together . . . I just can't get rid of Raoul! Hopefully though, what I have in mind for him . . . won't be hated THAT much (I'm not telling, I'm not telling . . . heck, who am I kidding, I haven't even WRITTEN it yet!) By the way, and I can't believe I didn't see this before, but did you realize the first letters of your penname spell dots?

Kates and Krista: There is going to be more, I promise . . . as to R/M . . . I'm NOT TELLING! *Chuckles* Actually, I'm not sure yet, it's not written yet!

Azure: I do try to be original, as much as possible . . . hopefully my story and other good ones on here will keep you coming back? 

Angelofnight: Ahhh! A pleasure to see you reviewing as always! Hopefully this sequel won't disappoint? And do read "Arrangements" when you get the chance . . . it's not total hilarity, and it is rather short, but I think you'll enjoy it. Oh . . . and when do we get to see more of "Lyre"????

To EriksAngelLGB . . . sorry I didn't answer you on AIM the other night, you caught me when I was out of the house, at work, though I always leave messenger on (bad habit of mine! *Chuckles*) I'm glad you took the time to tell me so personally that you're enjoying the story!

Thanks to Emmy, Ash, Riene, Jennifer, and AriesSolar for reviewing! Hope y'all enjoy as this little yarn spins itself out!

Oh yeah, just so y'all know, I'm planning on updating as regularly as possible . . . hopefully I won't get too far off schedule!

Stemwinder


	4. Chapter Three: Not Even The Rain

**Chapter Three: Not Even The Rain**

The ride to Rouen seemed shorter than it had the last time they had went, perhaps because Erik and Christine were more sure of their reception this time around. Even though their fears had been unfounded when they had returned just before Christmas, they had still been there, at least on Erik's part.

This time, when he knocked on the door to Degardeau cottage, there was none of the usual hesitation he felt when arriving at someone else's residence.

Marie Degardeau opened the door to see the younger couple standing before her, and swept them both into a hug before a word could be said, "I'm so glad you two could make it, I was worried about you journeying this far, but I can't say I'm sad to see you!" She bustled them in and one of the servants came and took their bags from them without a word. "John will take your bags to your room; the one Erik had last time you were here. Oh, I know that tomorrow you'll likely want to settle into your own house across town, but I insist you spend at least one night with us, and Gerard will agree."

Christine chuckled at the woman she had once termed 'Whirlwind Marie' as a masculine voice called out from the drawing room, "Marie is that who I think it is?"

Gerard Degardeau stepped into the doorway between the foyer and the drawing room, and upon sighting the couple before him, strode over to grasp his nephew in a tentative hug. "It's about time the two of you made it. Welcome home."

Christine could see the smile forming behind the mask as Gerard made that statement, and knew even if he would never admit it that Erik felt just as much at home here now as he ever had at the Opera.

They made their way into the drawing room and the four of them sat down, "So Erik, Christine," Marie began as one of the maids arrived with tea and biscuits and poured each of them a cup, "Tell us what has been going on in Paris. What have the two of you been doing with yourselves since Christmas? I know you've told us a lot in letters, but it's just not the same as hearing it face to face!"

"Well, Christine has been promoted from understudy to principal soprano at L'Opera, as la Carlotta has recently informed the management that she will not be returning," Erik related.

"It means more practice of course, but Erik is as always helpful with that . . . after hours of course, since the management does not know of his musical background."

"Why not tell them?" Gerard asked. "After all, I'm sure with his voice he could likely replace the principal tenor, could he not?"

Erik and Christine stole a glance between them, before Christine answered, "I've tried to tell him that, Gerard, but he wants none of it."

"I'd rather perform privately, than in front of a large audience, Gerard. Christine is better suited to the stage than I am. Besides, if I had to perform onstage opposite her, I'd likely flub my lines from distraction!"

Marie and Gerard both laughed, "Well Erik," Marie continued, "You didn't seem to have that problem the few times you performed here."

"That was different Marie, even though I was just as besotted then as I am now with my lovely wife, the addition of a large crowd would . . . a smaller crowd is better, less staring eyes, and generally for the right reasons then a larger one."

Marie grimaced as Erik's hand brushed against the mask. Christine also noted the slight movement, which he halted as soon as he realized it was noted, and dropped his hand back into his lap.

Erik cleared his throat, and Gerard quickly changed the subject, "And what have you been keeping yourself busy with while Christine has been in rehearsals, Erik?"

Erik nodded gratefully at his uncle, thankful for the change, "I have undertaken a few . . . projects of my own."

"He's being modest," Christine elaborated, "he's been working on plans for what looks like it will be a rather beautiful building Gerard, but he won't tell me what it is for."  
  


"Indeed, and I still won't, not until it is completed, then you shall know and see it in all it's glory," Erik teased as he gently squeezed her hand.

"See what I mean?"

"Even a man as besotted as your husband needs keep a few small secrets, least it's not a harmful one," Gerard laughed. As the rest of the group joined him in the hearty chuckle, the cook slipped into the drawing room to inform them that dinner would be in an hour.

Marie nodded in thanks, and turned to the couple before her, "I daresay you'd like to freshen up before dinner, n'est pas?"

"Yes, it has been quite the journey," Erik answered for them, and with that, Marie guided them upstairs to the chamber they would share for the night.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Meg walked alongside the shops on the Rue de Madeleine, feeling a bit lonely without Christine. They had so often taken their lunch break together in just such a fashion that Meg felt almost desolate looking into the windows by herself, without her friend's chatter to amuse her as they walked.

_Well, what did you expect? After all, Christine is a married woman now. Sure, she'll still be your friend, but her first priority is after all her husband. And with that comes certain duties, such as the visiting of relatives. Okay, so she won't see this as a duty, more like a vacation, or possibly even coming home. She was so comfortable at Degardeau cottage over Christmas, I wondered if they would return to __Paris__. After all, they have a house in __Rouen__ now, not actually in the city, close enough that they are never far from friends, but far enough away from prying eyes for Erik's comfort as well._

_A house with natural light, unlike the underground house they live in here. That bloody mausoleum that Erik calls home. So what if they have their every need there? Think I don't know that half of what is there was gotten by ill means? Erik's haunting of the managers? Christine doesn't seem to mind it. Maybe I shouldn't either, after all, I know that since the wedding OG's missives have become much fewer, and far between, and his demands have relaxed. Maman told me so._

She gazed into a shop window, but it was not the beautiful baubles which held her attention. It was the reflection she saw. The pert nose, the dull green eyes, and the blond curls that framed her face. She pushed all thought out of her head for a moment and merely concentrated on the reflection.

_Pretty, perhaps, but . . . not enough._

She thought of the conversation she'd had with Raoul the night she'd literally bumped into him on her way home from the Opera.

_All questions about Christine. He's still in love with her, even after all this time, it's obvious. _

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Philippe de Chagny paced the length of his study as his brother Raoul sat glumly in the chair before him.

"Perhaps it was wrong of me to have you return from Marseilles so soon Raoul. You're still chasing after your little chorus girl, aren't you? Even I've heard she's married, after all, with her being connected to you, did you think the news wouldn't reach me?"

"She's not just a chorus girl; she has a name, damn it!"

"Yes, and quite more of a name once you had taken her under your wing, went out of your way to see that the management noticed her, persuaded them to promote her to lead soprano? Don't think I didn't hear about that as well."

"Rubbish and you know it Philippe. The only reason Christine was promoted was because of an unfortunate accident, and they needed a replacement for la Carlotta very quickly. Christine was the natural choice as she was already the understudy, and she has the voice for it, she got that position on her own."

"But how soon after she got it that she threw you to the gutter my boy?"

"I –" Raoul cut himself short, not knowing how to answer the question.

"And now, another chorus girl!"

"No, you don't understand, the other day, I was merely walking her home, there was nothing even remotely romantic about it at all! Besides I was . . ." he trailed off again knowing that the questions he had posed to Meg would only anger his brother more.

~~~

_"She's been happy, surely even you could see that when you were in __Rouen__."_

_"In . . . wait, how did you know about that? Does she . . . does she know?"_

_"I don't know, she's never made mention of it. I really don't think she was paying attention to anything in that church but Erik."_

_"But you knew I was there?"_

_"Yes, I did, and so did a few of the other guests. We all heard you in the nave. It's a wonder Erik didn't seem to!"_

_Raoul rubbed the back of his neck nervously._

_"Why were you there, Raoul?"_

_"Because I had to see, to know . . . I had to be sure, and I almost thought I could . . . perhaps there might have still been a chance for us, but I was wrong, and I couldn't object."_

_~~~_

Raoul's face burned red with the memory, and his brother was quick to notice.

"Yes, I think another trip to Marseilles, or perhaps somewhere further –"

"No."

"What did you say?" Philippe rounded on Raoul.

"I said," Raoul replied quietly, "no. I am not going to Marseilles, or anywhere else for that matter, Philippe."

"Yes, you are damn it!" Philippe stormed, his hand on the door about to swing it wide when he turned back to his brother with a menacing look on his face. "I think you'd best remember who controls the purse strings around here!"

Raoul watched Philippe exit the room, his fists clenching and unclenching on the arm of the chair he still sat in.

_How dare he threaten me with money, or lack of it? He knows darn well that I could live quite comfortably outside the de Chagny estate, that I merely choose to remain. I've got enough ventures of my own to support me. How dare he!_

He glanced down in his hands as he folded them in his lap, thinking once more of Christine, and of Meg and their conversation, and wondering just what she had meant by knowing he was killing himself with work.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

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_Author's Notes:_

_Angelofnight__: It's not going to be totally Raoul and Meg, though they do play a significant role, especially later on after the Opera's break period. I've got two of those chapters written already . . . I'm not telling more than that, but they are integral to the plot. However, the chapter after this one is a LOT more Erik, as we get a deeper look into both him and Gerard, more of their relationship (hey, they need it!) as well as a cuteness E/C scene!_

_Deidre: Nadir will come along, but not just yet. I've got to get Erik and Christine back to __Paris__ before he can show up! And I'M NOT TELLING! Are there trees in _Paris___?_

_Jstarz927, Claire, Ash, thanks for the moral support!_


	5. Chapter Four: Gladly Beyond Any Experien...

**Chapter Four: Gladly Beyond Any Experience**

As Erik walked along the streets of Rouen with Gerard three days after his arrival in Rouen, he couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. It was too warm to wear his usual cape and hat, so his face, and the mask, were left exposed to any who chose to look.

And many did. Several times along the walk towards Gerard's office he'd heard the short gasps, though thankfully, he had not yet been confronted with violence. Gerard, for his part, was ignoring the stares that were pointed towards his nephew.

_They'll not say a word while you're with me, Erik, I assure you._

Erik heard those words, spoken the evening before at dinner, in his head once more as they walked along the Rue De Lacat. It seemed years to him before Gerard finally stopped at a building and entered.

"This," Gerard gestured with his left hand, "is the same building where your father and grandfather, your mother's father, once worked together."

Erik's eyes widened as he looked around the office, the shelves lined with weighty tomes which upon further inspection turned out to be architectural books.

"This is your place of employ then?"

"Yes, Erik."

"And what is it you do here?"

Gerard smiled brightly, "I design buildings."

Erik shook his head in astonishment.

"You come from a long line of architects and master masons, Erik. It did not surprise me in the least when Christine told us you were designing a building. It's in your blood, just as the music is."

"I'd never thought about it, not until . . ."

"There would have been no need to, would there," Gerard sighed. "She likely would not have mentioned it to you. Don't look so surprised, Erik. I may not have known your mother well, but I knew what she was in her younger years. Spoilt. Willful. But I can't deny she loved your father, and he . . . he was a good man, Erik. Intelligent, hard working, honest."

Erik nodded as Gerard reminisced some more about Charles Laramie, intent on every word imparted, and carefully listening for the answer to the question that had plagued him from the moment he had seen the headstone in the cemetery in Boscherville.

Gerard watched the furrowing of the brow not hidden behind the mask, and could see his nephew's inner torment through the younger man's eyes. "You may ask me anything about Charles that you wish, Erik. I find that after more then fifty years, it's no longer difficult to talk about him."

Erik opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out, and he closed and opened his lips several times before finally saying, "I do have questions, but this is neither the time nor the place."

Gerard nodded his acceptance of this, and began to show Erik around, introducing him to the others in the office as he went along. Mostly younger men sat behind the drafting tables, and all were polite as they met Erik, even if a few did stare at him from behind his back.

Eventually, they found themselves in Gerard's private office, where the older man closed the door behind them. "I've been meaning to ask, Erik," Gerard began as they sat down. "At Christmastime, I know that you had not decided what to do with the house, and I must say, my curiosity has been killing me. I promised Marie I would not be so gauche as to ask you, but I find that away from her ear, I can't help myself."

Erik glanced down at his hands for a moment, then back into his uncle's eyes. "Christine and I have discussed it at great length. She enjoys our holidays in Rouen, though I daresay Marie has something to do with that. Neither of us is ready to leave Paris for good yet, Christine still has her career, and though I could conduct my business anywhere I wished, Paris allows us certain conveniences. Though we've discussed one day perhaps moving into the house on a more permanent basis, for the time being, we're going to keep it and use it on holiday."

Gerard nodded, "You've been rather quiet about your business in Paris, Erik."

"Because even though it is mine, I don't deal with the running of it, Gerard. I fear I've been a bit of a recluse in the past few years, growing a bit more eccentric with age, and if it had not been for my associate keeping a few of my older creations on hand and selling them from time to time as needed, I doubt I'd have a business left to speak of."

"You mean you've trusted this man for years, without keeping an eye on him, and he's kept the business running?"

"Jules could easily have taken everything if he had wished, and I'd often told him he could, but he's an inherently honest man. Not quite unchecked, Gerard, I've met with him on a regular basis over the years, merely I did not realize he was keeping the business running, so when he came to me two months ago and told me that there was still interest in my designs, I was flabbergasted. When he showed me the books for the past six years, I was even more astonished, I'd thought that everything I'd put out toward the Opera house had strangled the business completely, but I was wrong once more. He'd merely been waiting until I showed a spark of interest in it once more."

"Well, if you are once more turning your creative sights towards architecture, I should admit I had another reason for brining you here today. I had thought to offer you a position, but if you've already got a thriving business . . ." Gerard trailed off, spreading his hands before him. "I don't know why I would have thought otherwise."

Erik's eyes widened behind the mask, "Without even seeing any of my work? Just like that?"

Gerard pursed his lips in a fine line, "I fear even I am not that vain, Erik. If you are even half as talented now as you were as a child . . ." Gerard trailed off once more, then reached in his desk and took out a handful of drawings.

Erik took the drawings from his uncle's hand, and sorted through them. "I was surprised once before in a similar fashion, I don't know why it didn't occur to me that Marie may have managed to save some of my childhood compositions from the fire I set the lot to twenty years ago."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

_It was pure folly, telling him that those drawings survived. Marie had told me of his reaction upon entering his mother's house all those years ago._

Gerard sat in his study later that evening, after Erik and Christine had left to their house on the edge of town, and Marie had gone to bed. He could not sleep however, and sat at his desk, his chin resting on his bridged hands.

A memory came back to him unbidden, something he'd overheard just before Christmas.

~~~

_"__Persia__, though you have never told me the full story," Christine's voice echoed through the door, "I know that at least. He didn't care what happened there, Erik. And I am here, so you know that though I know the worst of it, at least I believe I do, that it does not matter to me, either."_

_A rustling of clothes, and then silence for a moment, before Erik spoke again, "Yes, for some reason I can not comprehend, you are here despite my past and my face, and God knows I am grateful for that every day I awaken. But the people down there, Christine, they are from the world that for so long I have turned my back on, the world that I allowed to drive me down below the Opera in the first place."_

~~~

The comment about being driven below the Opera had plagued him for quite some time, more so when he'd realized an invitation to Paris did not seem to be forthcoming. His nephew was very secretive about their home in the city, that much he'd realized from the first. It had become more apparent when he had realize the address that Erik and Christine had given him was actually Nadir's apartment.

Nadir had promised not to mention his trip to Paris in February, when he'd thought to surprise his nephew and niece with a visit while he was wooing a new client. He'd never told Marie what he had discovered, merely said that he had not had time to see Erik and Christine.

_It was a damn good thing Marie did not come with me!_

What could he have told Marie if she had been there? He wouldn't have been able to protect her from the knowledge that the two young people she'd come to care about nearly as much as if they were her children were hiding something from her. 

"Gerard?"  
  


Gerard glanced up from his pensive thoughts, to the woman who stood framed in the doorway. Her now gray hair was flowing down her back, unbound, and her eyes were twinkling as she looked at the man she loved more than life itself. He smiled at the vision she presented before him.

"I'm sorry my love, I was having trouble sleeping and didn't want to disturb you with my tossing about."

Marie made her way around the desk, and knelt before her husband, "What's wrong, Gerard. You've been worrying over something for the past week now, and you've never kept secrets from me before."

Gerard smiled ruefully, "It's nothing important, Marie darling, merely worries over a rather difficult client."

Marie squeezed his hand, "What ever is going wrong, I've got no doubt it will turn out in the end. You've got a way of wooing even the toughest cookies, you'll win this one over too," she smiled wickedly, "In the meantime, I could attempt to distract you."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Erik sat in his own study later that night, in a similar stance to that his uncle was sitting in on the other side of town.

_Why does it surprise me so he's seen my work? After all, didn't Garnier manage to get his hands on my earlier designs? Even if it was through a different source._

Erik's mind drifted briefly to that first meeting with Garnier, nearly twenty years before, when the man had pulled out his designs in a fashion similar to that Gerard had used today. The discovery that Garnier knew more about him than he had been ready at that point to admit had nearly gotten the man killed that night. Only an eventual understanding had saved him, that and the rage finally leaving Erik momentarily.

_And had I not begun to feel the stirrings of those feelings at times towards Gerard? I don't want to hurt the man, indeed, he's become . . . I've come to . . . care._

_Oh bloody hell._ Erik took in a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, _I could tell that half those men in that building today were afraid of me, this mask . . ._ his thought trailed up, and his hand rose to touch his naked face. Christine had accustomed him to removing the mask when they were alone, and here it was no different. Though there was a housekeeper, employed so that the house did not fall into ruin during their extended absences, she left in the evening to go home to her own family, leaving them with the house to themselves.

He'd left their bed when he realized he wouldn't be sleeping any time soon. Rarely did that happen; usually he was so replete with happiness after an evening in Christine's arms that he fell into a deep and peaceful slumber, something he'd never before in his life experienced.

His thoughts locked onto his wife, who was now sleeping alone in their bed. The way she'd touched his naked face, night after night, always with a look of love in her eyes. The soft caresses they'd bestowed upon each other in these past four months, and the love that swelled his heart every time they'd made love. For a moment, it chased his other worries from his mind, before he thought of the looks Christine had been flinging at dinner between him and Gerard, almost as if she could sense the slight tension.

Which brought his thoughts back onto his uncle. Erik knew the man had questions for him that had been left unasked, just as Erik had questions of his own he could not put voice to yet.

_What would my father have done if he had seen my face? Would he have hated me as my mother did? Or would he have softened her response towards me, perhaps treated me as Gerard does now, treated me as Giovanni did for that time I was under his tutelage? With respect, and perhaps, even the love of a father for his son? Would he have shut me away the way she did, out of sight from the world?_

He heard the rustling on the stairs, and his instincts took over as he made his way quickly toward the staircase, hiding in the shadows, until the source of the sound appeared at the bottom. A dark haired angel in a flowing white nightdress.

"You couldn't sleep?"  
  


"Erik!" she turned back towards him, as he'd called out after she'd passed. "Where are you, it's too dark down here."

He stepped out of the shadows into the pale light cast through the window by the moon, and held out his hand to the vision before her.

"You should be getting your rest, Christine; I know Marie has quite a day planned for the two of you tomorrow."

"I was sleeping, until I realized you weren't in the bed with me. Erik, what's wrong? You've been rather quiet all evening, quieter than usual and at dinner . . ."

Erik groaned deep in his throat, "My thoughts are running away with me, that's all my dear."

Christine smiled wryly, "You didn't have a quarrel with Gerard, did you?"

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"Because the two of you barely said a word to each other at dinner."

"No love, we didn't quarrel," Erik reassured her as he took her gently in his arms. "Merely I think we were both thinking of topics that nearly came up between us this afternoon."

"Erik? You're being cryptic again."

"Sorry, it's just that there was something that I nearly asked him this afternoon, and I'm not sure if I really want to hear the answer."

Christine looked at him silently for a moment, allowing him the chance to continue.

"I almost asked him some things about my father."

Christine let out a soft "oh" before pulling wrapping her arms around him tightly, the embrace meant to soothe. "You want to know how your father would have reacted to you."

"Yes," Erik rasped out.

"Erik, I didn't know him, but . . . I . . . I'd like to think he would have loved you regardless. Don't you remember Marie telling you that on that first day in Degardeau cottage?"

Erik nodded his head in the dark, "Yes, I remember, but I think I would believe it a bit more coming from his brother. Even Gerard told me once that he could not have guaranteed his own reaction to me upon my birth, that after many years however of not knowing he had a living relative yet, he was able to accept me."

"Oh Erik!"

"At least he was honest about it. If he can be honest about himself, can he not be honest about my father? I have this burning need to know, but I don't know what I'll do if he tells me my father may well have reacted as my mother did!"

Christine sighed softly, her hand gently caressing her husband's naked face in reassurance, and as proof that he did indeed now have love at his very fingertips.

Erik, understanding the gesture, gazed down into her bright blue eyes and whispered, "I love you, Christine."

"And I love you, always." 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

*Author's Notes: Y'all would have seen this update days ago, but Fanfic decided to go down ::: sighs ::: well, I'm back. Though as much as I tried, I am no longer a full chapter ahead of myself. Well, I promised some E/C, here it is!

Deidre: No, Philippe isn't dead, because the standoff at the Opera between Raoul and Erik never happened. See what happens when I tamper with the timeline? *Laughs softly* But we needed some more angst, and he was more than happy to provide it!

Everyone else: Sorry, I'm tired so I'm bunching things together – Thanks for reviewing! And I'm STILL NOT TELLING!

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----  _Stemwinder  ****_-----'-----{_****_@_**


	6. Chapter Five: Insane Curiosity

**Chapter Five: Insane Curiosity**

****

Erik managed to corner Gerard in his study alone three days later.

"You said he was a good man. What would he have thought of me?"

Gerard gasped as he looked up at his nephew, not realizing until he heard the question that he was even there. "Erik, you startled me. Who are we talking about?"

"You know who," Erik rasped, pacing to the window which overlooked the street. He stared out; the mask reflected by the dim light of the waning day as he reined his courage in and asked again, "My father. What would he have thought of me, Gerard, had he lived to see me? Would he have run at first sight of me?"

Gerard stared blankly at his nephew for several moments, trying to contemplate an answer, before finally breathing out, "I don't know, Erik. I know by his letters and the few times I saw him between wedding your mother and his death that he was greatly looking forward to fatherhood. He was older than she was, and one would think a bit wiser in the ways of the world, and he certainly was not spoilt as she was, as you well know she was. I'd like to believe that your face would not have mattered, but he never did see you, so how can I know?"

Erik took a deep breath as Gerard finished, "Tell me more about him, Gerard. I don't know why, I've not thought about it in my fifty years on this earth, but now, I want to know."

Erik sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk from Gerard, his eyes unblinking behind the mask. Gerard's face suddenly filled with trepidation.

"I was being truthful when I told you he was a good man. He was intelligent, and caring. He was much loved by everyone whose life he touched. Your grandfather, your mother's father, seemed to look upon him almost as if he were his own son, even before your mother showed her preference in Charles. He was kind. Erik, it is hard to sum up a man's life."

"Then don't try to sum it up. Tell me whatever you can. What was he like as a child? What interested him? What made him so loved? What made my mother choose him?"

Gerard sighed again, the sadness coming once more to his eyes. "As a child he was rather well behaved, he never caused our mother trouble as I did. I can remember him getting me out of scrapes on many occasions. Of course, I don't know what he was like as a small child, I wasn't there. He always seemed older, wiser than his years. He loved beautiful things, as most of us seem to. I can't remember a time he wasn't into building things; he loved learning how things worked. And he adored making beautiful buildings most of all."

He took a deep breath, and continued, "Your parents, they met at a building site. Charles was working on a building designed by your grandfather, and your mother accompanied him one day. Before long, he began to court her, and then they married. They went to London for the honeymoon, and her parents died while they were there, from Cholera. The whole household died, and I daresay if your mother had been home at the time, we would not be sitting here talking right now. I believe you were conceived by that time. Your mother didn't want to stay in Rouen, and talked your father into the house in Boscherville. I know he traveled between there and here each day, and then there was the accident. A piece of masonry fell . . ." Gerard trailed off, and looked up from the desk straight into Erik's eyes, the moisture he was trying to hold back now evident. "I'm sorry. I told you to ask, that I could talk about it, that the fifty years since his death meant I could talk without it affecting me, but . . . I was wrong, wasn't I? He was my brother, and I loved him, and I wish I had been closer to him in those later years, but it's too late to turn the clock back now, n'est pas?"

Erik nodded, his body finally relaxing in the chair he'd taken. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

"I'd say that went rather well, Gerard," Marie said quietly as she entered the study after Erik had left.

"Better than I had hoped, but Marie, I still didn't really answer the question he wondered about most."

"How can you? How can you tell him how someone would have reacted to something they had never seen? That would require psychic abilities, and we both know it."

"Marie? You knew him briefly, if Erik had asked you, what would you have told him?"

"Erik did ask me Gerard," Marie answered, "and I said I was sure that Charles would have loved him regardless. Whether or not that is true is another story, but what was I to tell him?"

"Indeed," Gerard sighed, "I'd have probably done the same. In fact, I think I just did, almost."

Marie wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and pulled him close as his arms wound around her back and pulled just as tightly.

_'Now if only I could gain the courage to ask him about the Opera.'_

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Raoul looked in the window of the small café, his eyes closed upon the table near the back, a table of one. Bright green eyes perused a menu as tiny hands grasped the paper, and then the eyes lifted to speak to the waitress and a bright smile graced her small lips.

_'Meg. Meg Giry.'_

He shook his head, a lock of hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it aside. He drew himself up to his full height, and made his way into the café, his eyes still trained on the table where the pert little dancer was sitting. 

He could hear Philippe's reaction now. _Another dancer. But it didn't matter what she was. She'd offered out the hand of friendship that day he'd bumped into her, and he'd be damned if he was going to refuse!_

She looked up in time to see him nearly pass her table, "Raoul!"

He looked down, pretending surprise, "Meg, fancy meeting you here."

Meg smiled brightly, "Indeed. Are you meeting someone or are you here alone?"

"I'm alone, and you?"

She sighed softly, "Alone. Would you care to join me? Then neither of us has to eat alone, and I do so detest eating alone."

Raoul grinned, and took the chair opposite Meg. "Have you been enjoying your vacation from the Opera?"

"Yes . . . and no. Yes because I have time to do all those little things people sometimes take for granted, but no because . . . I love dancing. Granted, Maman won't let me go a day without practicing, and even if she weren't there I'd likely practice anyway, I still miss the structure of the Opera, and . . . I miss being in front of the crowd, the applause for a job well done."

Raoul smiled as she rambled on, "I can see the way your eyes light up when you speak of it that you do love it. How much more time is there before you return?"

"Two and a half weeks I'm afraid. Sometimes it doesn't seem to move fast enough."

He nodded, "Yes, I can imagine, when you love something so much, to be separated from it, time must slow to a crawl."

Meg's brow furrowed. "Has that ever happened to you?"  
  


"Yes."

"What causes time to crawl for you?"

Raoul shook his head, "Used to. Love, I imagine, or so I believed."

"Christine," Meg replied simply.

Raoul's eyes widened.

"You'd have had to have been blind not to notice the way you looked at her when you came to the Opera last year."

Raoul nodded, "I suppose to one who was looking in, yes, perhaps. I loved her. Perhaps I'll always love her in a way."

"I don't imagine it's easy to forget your first love. I wouldn't know. Unless you count dancing. But I don't see how it can be the same."

"You could equate dancing. Think what you would feel if you could never dance again?"

Meg nodded solemnly, "I'd be devastated. I'd think the world were coming to an end. Is that how it feels, losing someone you love?"

"Yes, you think you can't go on another day without her, then you wake up the next morning and wonder why when there is this ache in your heart. As time goes by, that ache gets smaller and smaller, until one day, you find you can breathe again. And you can live again. And begin to think that perhaps, one day, when the time is right, you can even love again."

Meg smiled, "You'll love again. One day, the right woman will come along, and she will love you as much as you love her."

"One day," Raoul whispered. "Yes, one day. On that day, you can tell me that you told me so!"

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

_'All in all, I'd say it was a good lunch,'_ Meg thought as she slipped into the quiet house, and replayed the entire afternoon, spent with Raoul. It seemed like they couldn't run out of things to talk about, and after lunch was finished and they realized that neither was ready to part company for a lonely afternoon, they took a walk down to the Bois, which lead to more interesting discussions and before they knew it, it was nearing suppertime, and Meg had promised her mother she'd spend the evening with her, so she gracefully declined Raoul's offer of dinner. He'd looked taken aback for a moment before she'd explained, then seemed resigned, smiled and said another time then.

Meg hugged her arms to herself as she replayed that moment in her mind over and over and over. The smile came easily to her lips as she thought of his gentle hand on her shoulder at the door, almost as if he were going to . . . '_but no, that part had to be a dream, it was too real to be otherwise!'_

_'Look at you Meg Giry! Fawning over a slight touch. Reading more into it than could possibly be, when at the beginning of the afternoon he all but told you he would always love Christine.'_

_'But he did say he would always love her, and wasn't it Christine the one who told you that loving someone and being in love are two completely different things all together?'_

"There you are!" the stern voice of Madame Giry broke into Meg's musings.

"Maman!" Meg whirled around from her stance, staring at the door, to face her mother head on.

"I was beginning to worry, you said you were merely going for lunch, and it's nearly supper."

"Maman, I'm fine, I merely . . . lost track of time. I took a walk in the Bois and before I knew it, it was getting late, and I hurried home."

"And met with the Vicomte de Chagny on your way?"

Meg gasped and her eyes widened.

"I saw you from the window. Meg, what is it with you lately? You seem . . . preoccupied so often lately, and if I didn't know better I'd swear . . ." she trailed off, and scrutinized her daughter's face.

"I'm just . . . I'm . . . I've just had a lot to think about lately Maman, all the changes at the Opera, thinking about the upcoming season, knowing that I'm now captain of the corps . . . it's nothing, Maman, just a lot of thinking and a bit of daydreaming about next season."

Madame Giry shook her head, almost as if saying she didn't believe her daughter, but she let it drop. "Nevertheless, that's no reason to go around moony eyed and not pay attention to your practicing. You know that being made leader of the Corps brings with it new responsibilities, you have to be better than the other girls, you have to work harder."

"I know Maman, and I promise you, I'll do my best."

Madame Giry nodded, and hugged Meg quickly before releasing her, "now, go on up and get changed for dinner."

Meg smiled, and dashed up the stairs.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Author's Notes: Between Fanfic.net troubles with uploading, my computer eating chapters, and a slight case of . . . not necessarily writers block, but writer's detour (hey, I'm gonna have to remember that for later!) this story isn't exactly moving as fast as I originally intended it to. I ask that you bear with me. When I started I had a few chapters written, and I've gone through that reserve now so that what you are reading is pretty much what I have, save for some of the later chapters that I still have to tie into.

Awoman: Kids . . . hmmm. Interesting thought. No, you're right, Christine is still young, goodness knows my father was nearly 60 and became a father again, so it wouldn't be too far out there, buuuuuuuuttttt, I'm not saying a word. As for Raoul causing trouble, um . . . I think that any trouble from Raoul will be from quite a different vantage point. Erik and Christine make enough for themselves!

Ash: Yes, everything will be explained eventually, but its going to be an arduous journey, in which I hope that Gerard and Erik become closer. Goodness knows Erik needs family, someone to love him, and now he's got it if he just opens up his eyes!

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ Stemwinder -----'-----{@_**


	7. Chapter Six: The Power Of Your Intense F...

**Chapter Six: The Power Of Your Intense Fragility**

****

They rode back to the house on the outskirts or Rouen in silence, neither having the courage to go over the events that had taken place in Gerard's study. Christine, for her part, was almost afraid to ask how it went as she could sense Erik's pensive mood. She was no longer the child she had been when they first met, no longer a cringing violet who feared that his awesome temper would lash out at her at a moment's notice, but she didn't want to begin an argument either.

They entered the house in that same silence, at which point after removing their coats, Erik stalked to the sitting room and stood stiffly before the fire which the housekeeper had been kind enough to leave for them.

Christine stood in the doorway of the sitting room for several minutes, watching the unbending form before her, wishing she only dared to cross the room and touch him.

Finally, Erik removed the mask and set it upon the mantle. He turned slowly, and looked across the room where his wife stood.

"If you had been either of my parents, would you not have run at first sight of me?"

Christine's fingers kneaded in the skirt of her dress as her tongue stammered for an answer, "Erik, I . . . I . . . I'm not them, so how can I say?"

"You wanted to run," Erik whispered softly, "at first."

Christine looked down to the floor, "Yes," she replied honestly, "at first. I was little more than a scared child then. I . . . it took me time to get used to you, but once I was, it didn't matter, Erik. You know that. I need time to get used to massive changes and before that moment, I had believed you an angel, that surely your face would be . . ." she choked on the words. "I imagined things like I had seen in ever picture of heaven ever drawn. I was . . . it was . . . Erik; I thought we'd covered that before. It was shallow of me, I know that now, but I love you, and that's all that matters. I not only love you, I am in love with you."

"I know you are," Erik sighed as he turned his back once more and stared into the fire. "And you still fear my ire. We've been married for four months now and you still fear me."

"Erik, I do not fear you. We're dancing around the same issue now that we did right after you proposed. I don't fear you. But I'm not about to go and say something that I know will make you angry at me, because I prefer to have you happy. Is there something wrong in that?"

He sighed, "No, not put that way. I'm just . . . in a mood I suppose."

Christine crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. "I know, mon ange. It's perfectly natural you know, to wonder about your father even now, wanting to know what he's like. How did your talk with Gerard go?"

Erik turned, took her in his arms, and led her to the divan, where they sat side by side wrapped up in each other for several quiet minutes before he began. "It went rather well I suppose on the whole, but he did not really answer my question. I don't know why it's bothering me so Christine. Why the thoughts of a man who has been dead for more than fifty years, who I never met, who should mean nothing by that right, means so much to me."

"Because he's your father. You are flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, and you wish to please him. He didn't just up and leave you, he died. He didn't have a choice in the matter. He didn't abuse you, curse you, and demean you. And you want to know if he would have, or if he would have been a loving father, how different your life could have been if he had been there, instead of dying before ever alighting eyes upon your face."

"When did you get to be so smart, Christine Laramie?"

"The day I decided to marry you."

Erik laughed softly, and lowered his head to capture Christine's lips with his own.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

The next day, Erik once more accompanied Gerard to the office.

"I've been having difficulty with this one client, his wishes you see, are rather exact. I'm good at what I do, Erik, but I don't quite measure up to a man of your talent, and I thought perhaps you might have some fresh ideas as to how to satisfy this client's rather singular wishes. Of course, you will be paid for your time, as this is work."

Erik smiled behind the half mask, "No payment necessary, Gerard, I am merely doing you a favor. Consider it a labor of love if you will."

"If that's the way you run your business you must be going broke," Gerard laughed.

"Hardly."

"Well then," Gerard spread the plans across the drafting table so that his nephew could get a good sight of what he had so far.

Erik picked up a lead without so much as a word to Gerard, and began making marks over parts of the plans already drawn, and on the blank surfaces as well. Before lunchtime, Gerard dared to look over his shoulder, and gasped at what he saw.

"Mon dieu!"

"You don't think he'll like it?"

  
"Well, he's due to come and look at the plans at two o'clock, we'll see then, but I think this is more to his liking than anything I could have done."

"You're being too modest Gerard. The last time I was here, I perused through some of your plans, and they are nothing short of brilliant."

"And you are heaping the compliments on too high, my nephew. Never mind, it's getting late in the afternoon, and I daresay we could both do with some lunch."

Erik shook his head with mirth, but followed his uncle nevertheless. They walked down the street and stopped at a small sidewalk café.

"Erik, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Erik's eyebrow quirked unseen behind the mask, "More questions?"

"Not an inquisition I assure you. Just something rather curious."

Erik sighed softly before saying, "Well then? Out with it."

"I was in Paris in February."

There was no change in Erik's face to show the tremendous case of nerves he was now feeling, "I hope you found time while you were there to enjoy your private box at the Opera?"

Gerard smiled ruefully, "Yes, and Christine was excellent that night. I tried to make my way backstage to give my regards, but I fear I got a bit lost and by the time I found directions to her dressing room, she had already left."

"I'm sorry, if we had known, we'd have taken you out to dinner."

"Well, I was only there for the two days, and only had the one evening to spare really. Perhaps next time I should send you a note before arriving?"

Erik nodded, "Yes, of course."

Gerard's mouth opened as if he wanted to say more, but he bit his tongue as the waiter arrived with their food and refilled their drinks.

They ate in an uncomfortable silence, and it was not until they had both finished that Gerard opened his mouth to speak again.

"I had intended to surprise you."

An eyebrow quirked unseen behind the mask, "Pardon?"

"In February. I had intended to surprise you when I stopped by to visit."

Erik's fist clenched and unclenched beneath the table, the only visible sign of his current distress, and one which went unseen by Gerard. "You came to visit."

"Yes. The address you gave for correspondence."

A low growl escaped Erik's throat, low enough the other patrons of the café did not hear, and it was cut off quickly.

"I must have missed you there as well," Erik finally responded to the question that remained unspoken in the air.

"Yes. Funny thing though Erik, Nadir was there."

Erik closed his eyes, trying to shut out the nightmare which was now before him. "Go on, Gerard. Out with it."

"Where do you really live, Erik? I know that you're not homeless by any means, or you would have jumped on the house a lot quicker, would already be there."

Erik laughed wryly, "I assure you, I am far from homeless."

"You're being cryptic Erik."

Erik sighed softly, his mouth creasing into a tight frown, "Because I'm not sure you're ready to hear the answer, Gerard. And not sure I'm ready to part with it."

"Then tell me what you meant when you told Christine you had been driven below the opera?"

Eyes widened behind the mask as Erik was unable to stifle his reaction to that question, "Have you been eavesdropping on us then? How impolite of you Gerard."

"Not intentionally, no. The night before your wedding, Marie had sent me upstairs to check on the two of you, find out why you had not come down yet for the party, and I happened to be outside your door when you told Christine that, had just been about to knock in fact, but . . ."

"You stayed and listened instead."

Gerard's mouth hardened into a thin line before answering, "Yes, until I was sure that you were coming down. Answer the question, Erik."

"This is not the time nor the place-"

"As if there would be a better time, Erik. I've been nothing but honest in every question you've asked me in the past months. Part of being family means being honest with one another."

Erik groaned softly, "I do not live in the Rue de Rivoli, no. We live . . ." he trailed off and his head dropped to stare at the table, unable to meet his uncle's eyes, "near the opera. When I was building the opera house, I was also working on a place where I could, if necessary, escape humanity almost entirely."

"Under the opera," Gerard whispered as his face took on a look of horror. "You live under the opera . . . in a dressing room? Or in one of the basements?"

"Not exactly," Erik replied. "In a house, just . . . under the opera."

Gerard shook his head, trying to internalize the news his nephew was imparting. "Wouldn't that seem rather too much like a tomb?"

Erik coughed, the irony of Gerard's statement catching him off guard. "Perhaps to some," he replied as the spasm passed, and pulled his watch from his inner coat pocket, "now then, if we don't get back, you're going to be horribly late for your meeting." 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Christine glanced into the music room later that night. For the past several nights, Erik had been restless, and unable to sleep, much as he had been when she had first met him. She'd been woken tonight by the haunting melody that floated up the stairs to their bedroom, a melody she inherently knew had been coming from his hand.

There he was, staring out the window, violin in one hand and bow in the other, so statuesque in his magnificence. He was completely absorbed, she knew, and had not heard her soft footed approach, for he had not moved his stance an inch since she appeared at the doorway.

His own composition, she knew, for he'd played a variation of this one for her once before. Over the months, he'd written several compositions for her, and this was one of their mutual favorites. In her mind, she began to hear the lyrics he had written for it, and before long, she was vocalizing with the playing of the violin.

"_Chaque__ fois que j'entends des notes rencontrer l'air, ou le début d'une chanson éloignée. Je _sais__ que vous serez là, Je n'attendrai pas longtemps!_"_

As he heard her begin to sing with the melody, Erik turned to face his wife, and by the time she had finished the recitative, he had dropped the violin from his chin and began to harmonize with her.

"_Chaque__ bruit, chaque mélodie faible m'apporte plus près d'où vous serez, et je ne devrai pas me rechercher _sais___ vous sera exact là! Vous êtes, à l'intérieur de la musique, n'importe ce que nous sommes forcés de faire ou dire! Toujours à l'intérieur de la musique . . ."_

Christine's voice faded away as Erik's picked up the coming line, "_pas plus que juste une chanson . . ."_

And then Christine sang the answering line alone, "_Juste__ une chanson . . ."_

Silence filled the room for a moment as they stared at each other, both merely concentrating on stilling their hearts, when they both nodded, and sang the last line of the song in perfect harmony, their voices lingering together over the final notes, "_Juste__ une chanson partie."_

Erik closed the space between them as the final note died away, taking Christine into his arms and holding to her tightly for several quiet moments.

They stood there in the moonlight, before Christine finally broke the silence, "You were very quiet tonight."

Erik led them to the divan, meant for entertaining, and sat down, pulling Christine onto his lap, "I'm sorry mon petite." He kissed her forehead softly. "Gerard and I had a rather interesting conversation today, and I fear I've been re-hashing it all evening, therefore neglecting my beautiful wife, haven't I?"

Christine laughed softly and teased him, "Yes, you have been neglecting me of late."

Erik smiled playfully, "Then perhaps I should begin to rectify that situation."

"Oh you will Monsieur Laramie. But first, you will tell me about this conversation that has you so disturbed that even I could not distract you earlier this evening."

Erik ducked his head for a moment, breaking eye contact with Christine, until he felt her soft fingers under his chin, gently pressing to direct his head back up. He met her eyes again, and saw the concern and love written therein, and his heart skipped a beat.

"He overheard us speaking at Christmas time about the Opera . . . specifically, below the Opera."

"You told him about the house?"

Erik sighed softly, "Well, he knew we didn't live at Nadir's apartment."

A quiet laugh escaped Christine, "For as fond as we both are of Nadir, I fear it would be a horrible drain on even his hospitality to even think of such an arrangement!"

Erik shook his head in mirth, his wife's sense of humor allowing a smile to brighten his face for the first time all day.

"How did he react, Erik?"

"Well, he told me he had attempted to visit us in February, that he went to Nadir's apartment, and he was at the Opera, and what he had overheard at Christmas. So I told him that we live in a house below the Opera. I wasn't going to get more specific than that. He had an appointment with a client, and I cut the subject short by reminding him of such, and we left, simple as that."

"And how did _you_ react?"

Erik laughed softly, "No violence, if that's what's worrying you, you've moved me past that, remember?"

Christine chuckled lightly, "That wasn't what I was getting at and you know it, Erik."

"I'm fine. He's likely going to try to bring the subject up again, and I suppose when the time is right, we might have to invite him to tea if he's going to be in Paris again. What more can we do? We owe him that hospitality, I know you're going to tell me that."

"He's family. Does Marie know?"

"I don't think so, no, not unless he's told her tonight. She's never made mention of it to you, has she?"

"No, she hasn't, not in all the time we've been spending together the past week."

"Then I wouldn't worry about it until she brings it up my love. Likely, Gerard being the protectorate he is with her, he hasn't told her. Time will tell my love," he whispered as he placed another kiss on her forehead, "time will tell." 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Author's note 1: Sorry for the long period between updates, I had ideas which wound up being delayed due to an injury at work . . . I'm fine, but for a week, was unable to type thanks to my right wrist . . . I fear I have no patience with myself trying to type one handed. Then I had to work past a small mental block which made me stumble in one of the scenes, but finally, here it is, and with not one, but TWO E/C scenes! YAY!

Author's note 2: The song I used isn't really written in French, and I can't be sure I got the translation from the original English correct, but it's from a song called "Inside the Music", taken from my second favorite musical "The Rhythm Club" If you want the full English lyrics, or would like to hear the song, e-mail me at insidethemusictm@yahoo.com and I'd be happy to send it to you, it really is a pretty song, and so Phantomish! 

Ash: Men as a general rule seem to be . . . blind when it comes to noticing a woman likes them. Wonder how long Raoul will go on being so blind? We shall see.

Awoman: Don't worry, I'm back, and hopefully with a vengeance! I'm pleased though that you've been re-reading the story! Tells me it must be good. Hopefully I'll have another update in a few days . . . if things stay steady at work instead of skyrocketing the way they did the past two weeks!

Everyone else, hope you enjoy. Liked it? Hated it? Let me know, I love getting reviews!

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----  _Stemwinder  **_-----'-----{_******_@_**


	8. Chapter Seven: Somewhere I Have Never Tr...

**Chapter Seven: Somewhere I Have Never Traveled**

Meg tilted her face up to capture the rays of the sun, enjoying the spring warmth as she walked along the sculpted path leading to the front gates of the zoo in the Bois. As she looked ahead, her eyes searched for the form which had become almost as familiar as her own. He'd asked her to meet him here this afternoon, implored that once in a while, he needed to get away from his brother and the pressures placed upon him, and a trip to the Bois on a Sunday afternoon seemed just the ticket, even better if a friend would join him.

Meg hadn't had to think, she'd accepted, no hesitation.

_'And just why did you accept?'_ Her inner voice whispered. She shook the thought from her head. Raoul was her friend, and nothing, not even her doubts, was going to spoil what she had. What she wanted didn't matter, so long as she could see his face.

"Meg!"

She turned, and there he was, running up the path she had just taken. His face lit into a smile as he finally reached her, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

"Raoul, catch your breath, you didn't have to run so!"

"I was afraid I'd be late, that I'd miss you all together," he breathed in.

His cheeks were an interesting shade of red, likely from the running in the afternoon sun, but otherwise, he was the composed gentleman she'd gradually come to know the past week.

Had it only been a week since that meeting in the café, the long walk afterwards? It seemed every day he made an excuse to bump into her, more and more, and she couldn't find it in her to ask why. The frown lines that had begun to show around his eyes just before Christmas were beginning to fade, and she saw once more the jovial manner she had seen the first time she had seen him outside Christine's dressing room.

Every day, he grew more and more handsome to her, and every day, she had to remind herself that though he may value her friendship, that was all he wanted from her.

He offered her his arm, "It's been a while since I've been inside the Zoo."

"For me as well, there's just never time," Meg smiled as she took the arm he offered, and they entered the zoo. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

"I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow," Marie lamented as she carefully folded one of Christine's dresses.

Christine looked up from another dress, "I'll miss you too, Marie, you and Gerard both."

"I'd kept hoping for the longest time that the two of you would decide to settle down in this house after Gerard gave it to Erik, but I know you still have your career to consider."

The younger woman smiled, "We'll be back before you know it. Perhaps one day, we will settle down here, it's not like we haven't talked about it."

"You have discussed it with Erik then?"

"Yes, once or twice. Right now though, our place is in Paris, at the Opera. I've got a contract that will hold me there for the next year at least, and, well, the Opera holds a special place in our hearts. We never would have met had it not been for that place."

"You never did tell me the story of how you met, Christine."

Christine placed the dress she had been folding into the small trunk by the edge of the bed, avoiding Marie's eyes. What could she answer to that? The story of the Angel of Music would certainly show Erik in the worst possible light.

Finally, she looked up to the curious eyes of the older woman, "Erik always spent a great deal of time in the Opera, and one afternoon, he had been in the building and heard Meg goading me into singing. At the time, I had been a member of the Corps de Ballet. He . . . he managed to find out who I was, and then came to me and offered me singing lessons. 'You have a beautiful voice, a natural talent, but it is like a diamond in nature, it needs a small amount of polishing.' It had been a difficult time for me, I was losing my confidence before he became my teacher, but once hearing that voice, getting to know him, learning, and . . . before I knew it, I realized I was in love with him."

Marie smiled as Christine finished the story, "And I'm glad you found him, and he you. If you had not met, who knows if he would ever have sought me out, or found Gerard?"

Christine nodded.

"I told Gerard that perhaps sometime in the near future, we can take some time to travel to Paris. I know Erik had a hand in building the Opera; I'd love to see it. I'm sure it's as beautiful as the buildings he designed when he was younger, even if he didn't design the Opera itself."

"It is beautiful . . . not so much on the outside, but on the inside, it's a veritable palace."

"Of course, the real reason I want to go is to see you my dear. Yes, I've heard you sing, but I'd love to see you onstage in all your glory! It's been a long time since I've seen an opera."

"Then you must come," Christine smiled. "Erik and I would love to have you, any time."

"The two of you need your privacy young lady. You don't need two old codgers like Gerard and I bouncing off your walls."

"Oh Marie, you are hardly old! Age is all in the mind, after all. And if Erik objects to the idea, just you watch, I have my ways."

Marie laughed softly, "I'm sure you do my dear, I'm sure you do."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Raoul leaped up the steps of the stone mansion later that evening, his mind replaying every moment of his day with Meg. From the moment he saw her on the walk, her face had lit up with joy, and his heart had jumped into his throat. Christine had never looked at him in quite that way, though it was very similar to the look he had seen on Christine's face when she stood in that church, looking at Erik.

A low growl escaped Raoul's lips before he banished it and concentrated on Meg. Every time he saw her lately, it was new, refreshing, and he couldn't yet put his finger on what it was about her that kept him coming back to see her, though he kept thinking it was that offer of friendship. She'd sat and listened one night as he talked about his feelings for Christine, though he had not dared to tell her that they were starting to slowly diminish.

_'What would she think of you if she knew that your heart is starting to beat faster at the sight of someone else? She'd withdraw her friendship, most likely. Besides, there's no chance and you know it. Christine should have taught you that much. Look at what you felt – thought  you felt – and how it turned out, she loved Erik in the end, not you. Looks have nothing to do with it, it's somewhere else entirely, and you can't get by with just good looks and charm. No, mystery, magic, and an entrancing voice, and you don't have that. What would this woman see in you? Are you anything more than a pretty face and a large wallet?'_

_'No, remember, to Christine, that didn't matter, it was what was in the heart that counted, and her heart just didn't tick in time with mine.'_

_'But she's different, she's not Christine. Christine met Erik before I came back, there's always the chance that if I had found her before she had met Erik that things could have been different. And it's not as if Christine doesn't care at all for me, she just sees me as a brother, as her childhood playmate, and nothing more. Can I fault her for that? She hurt me, but she didn't want to, or so she said. No, I believe she didn't want to hurt me, she's not that type of woman.'_

_'If I were to confess to Meg that my heart is beginning to race for someone else, how would she look at me?'_

_'If I were to tell Meg I think I'm falling in love with someone . . . what would she think of me? What would she think if she knew who?"_

Raoul shook his head as he walked into his chambers, and dropped the coat of his dress suit on the chair in the corner. He stalked over to the writing desk in the far corner, pulled out a sheet of paper and hastily began scribbling out his thoughts.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

"Oh, how I wish Christine was here right now," Meg sighed as she dropped down onto her bed later that evening. Her mind had been replaying her day with Raoul since the moment he had left her off on her doorstep, the moment he had leaned over and . . .

And the door had opened from the inside, and her mother had stood there, her voice almost harsh as she said, "Meg, it's almost dinnertime."

Meg had said her goodbyes quickly and dashed in the house, hoping her mother would hold her tongue for once, which, thankfully, she did. That dinner had still been a strained affair, Meg could tell her mother wanted to say something, anything. Meg never gave her the chance, however, dashing upstairs almost immediately, pleading exhaustion.

Now, however, that she had found sanctity in her room, she found she couldn't sleep, but didn't dare light a candle lest she give away to Maman that she was indeed awake!

_'He almost kissed me. Almost. He would have, I can feel it deep down inside, he would have kissed me if Maman had not opened the door.'_

_'Oh Meg!'_ Her voice of reason interjected. _'He's a nobleman for goodness sakes, if he had leaned down to kiss you, well, Maman always told you they only wanted one thing, and it wasn't marriage!'_

_'What would it be like with him? Christine has let some small hints slip, that it's wonderful between her and Erik. Oh, if only I weren't so inexperienced! But then, what would Raoul think of me then? Would he still desire to be my friend? And isn't being his friend infinitely better than any other prospect that is open between us?'_

Her mind, and heart, continued to race, until she fell into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

"Are you sorry to be leaving in the morning?" Erik asked softly as he and Christine snuggled together in their bed.

Christine lifted her head off of his bare chest to look him in the eyes, unguarded now. "In a way, yes. I'll miss Marie and Gerard immensely, but I miss Meg, and Madame Giry, and I'm sure you miss Nadir, though I know you will miss Marie and Gerard just as much as I will."

"I daresay you're right. Gerard asked me about us making this our permanent home, you know."

  
"I'm not surprised, Erik. Marie asked something similar of me today."

"Oh she did, did she?"

"Well, in a round about way she did, she said she'd hoped we would settle here. I know she's got Gerard, but I sometimes think she's a bit lonely for female companionship."

"I have my own thoughts, but they are neither here nor there, mon cher."

"And what thoughts are those?"

"She sees you almost as a daughter. Did you not see the fervor she put into organizing our wedding? Helping you pick out the dress, which I must say, you looked heavenly in."

"Oh posh, I think you rather enjoyed helping me out of it."

Erik laughed soundly, "I can not deny that I enjoyed that part immensely."

Christine started to chuckle along with her husband as his arms tightened around her.

"And you miss the Opera, n'est pas?" he asked softly.

"Yes, I admit, I do. I miss some of the people. Not all, but some."

  
Erik nodded in the darkness, "Though I admit, it is nice to come here and be more . . . normal."

"Normal," she whispered softly. "You know, Erik, I'd rather have one minute of you than all the so called normal in the world."

Erik smiled at his wife and kissed her gently on the forehead. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Author's Note: Another week, and my muses were kind enough to provide us with another update. YAY! Seriously, I originally planned to try to keep the pace I set with it's predecessor, but there have been some scenes which have almost felt like pulling teeth, none of these guys seem to want to do what I want them to do! But . . . still, we've an idea what is coming down the road. Erik and Christine are about to return to Paris, and . . . the Opera! What new surprises lie in store? Stay tuned for next weeks installment!

Anyways . . . 

Mel: Never fear, Nadir is coming along soon, likely after Erik and Christine return to Paris. As for the song . . . um, if you want it, e-mail me. I searched every download site there was for months not finding it, and it's not widely circulated, but I've already sent it to one person who e-mailed and asked, plus . . . um, not wanting to give anything away, but AFTER this story is done, there is one more, set many years down the road (which I've not posted yet and will NOT post till this one is done) which utilizes that song, soooooo . . . 

Angelofnight: No worries . . . I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for "Love Comes . . ." it was after all my first full length! And I read somewhere you're threatening to take down the Lyre? DON'T YOU DARE! I'm still hoping you'll get back to it . . . eventually? PLEASE?

Aspen: Well, Christine's reaction to Meg and Raoul . . . if it becomes more than friendship . . . well, you'll see ;-)

L'Ange de Folie: I know about being lazy, I try to review myself as often as possible . . . which is admittedly not always as often as I would like! The address . . . I'd like to think that Erik and Nadir discussed it . . . perhaps I can use that as a base when Erik sees Nadir after returning to Paris (we see the wheels turning in Stemwinder's head . . .)

Deidre: Sorry to hear about AP English taking all your time. I miss your voice of reason and am desperately waiting for her to come out and give me a good laugh!

TPP, Aspen1, Ash, Aenigmatic: Thank you all, and don't worry, I plan to! Soon, very very soon, I promise.

Everyone else, even those who have not yet reviewed . . . you know you wanna! Just kidding, I loves ya whether you do or don't, and this story is gonna continue one way or the other. But I love to hear what you think anyways ;-) (Hint hint)

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****_  Stemwinder  -----'-----{@_**


	9. Chapter Eight: Though I Have Closed Myse...

**Chapter Eight: Though I Have Closed Myself As Fingers**

****

Christine knocked loudly on the door of the Giry house. It had been a long three days journey from Rouen to say the least, and she was glad to be back in Paris, even though she missed Marie and Gerard already.

Madame Giry's countenance flew into view as the door opened. "Christine, good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon, Madame Giry," Christine smiled at the matronly woman who stood aside to allow her entrance.

"How was your journey? The two of you would have arrived back sometime last evening, n'est pas? I'm sure you're still tired from the trip."

  
"Oh, it was lovely and not so tired now. It was rather late when we arrived last night, which is why we didn't come for Ayesha on the way into Paris. I reasoned with Erik that you kept earlier hours than he does!"

"Yes, I imagine I do. Ayesha is around here . . . somewhere."

"She probably went into hiding at the sound of my voice! I'm just glad she doesn't hiss or spat at you or Meg when she's here."

"No, she was as good as gold, if a bit distant as usual. Ah, there she is!"

Ayesha leapt onto the couch, near Christine, blue eyes locked onto blue as if the cat were asking the human where the master was.

"I daresay he'll be home a little after we return," Christine whispered to the cat. "That is, if you'll let me take you home instead of waiting on him?"

Christine had the distinct feeling that if the cat could have, she would have shrugged. As it was, Christine turned her attention away from the cat and back to the woman before her, "Is Meg home? I haven't heard her."

"No, she's . . . well, that is, she went out early this morning," Madame Giry stammered.

Christine stared puzzled at the older woman for a minute. Madame Giry's unflappable calmness was well known, she'd never seen the woman the least bit nervous as she seemed to be now.

She shook her head; sure she was just imagining things. Christine picked up Ayesha, who resigned herself to being in this woman's arms.

"I imagine the two of you still need to be settled in, n'est pas?" Madame Giry asked softly.

"Yes, and this little one needs to be re-acquainted with her master. Do tell Meg I said hello?"

"Of course, my dear, of course," Madame Giry replied as she saw Christine out the door. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

****

****

"Are you looking forward to returning to practice tomorrow?" Erik asked later that night as they finished putting away the dinner dishes.

"Yes, and no," Christine sighed softly. "Yes because I missed performing, being on the stage, and my friends up there, but no, because I'm going to miss spending the day with you. You've spoiled me."

Erik laughed, and took her gently into his arms, "I thought something like that my love."

She lifted her hand and caressed the ravaged side of his face, "My answer pleases you then?"

A smile as he replied, "Yes, it pleases me greatly. You're seriously inflating my ego."

"On purpose at that."

"My little minx!"

Her soft laughter rang in his ears like the sweetest music, "Mon amour, I think I rather like seeing you with your ego inflated, among other things."

He quirked a brow, "Oh?"

She stood on tip toe and whispered in his ear, a devilish look on her face the whole time. By the time she pulled away, Erik was blushing brightly.

"I think I like that idea of yours my dear. So . . . what would it take to convince you?"

"A music lesson," she smiled sweetly.

"If that is all I am asked to part with for that particular favor, than I think I can oblige."

Held tight together, they made their way to the music room.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

"Christine, how can you tell if you are in love with someone?"

Christine's head shot up from where she had been writing in her journal during a break in the practice to glance in shock at the doorway. Meg was standing there in her practice clothes, her blond hair tousled slightly from the hours of dancing.

"Who are you in love with?" Christine asked, point blank.

"Not so loud!" Meg shushed, closing the door behind her and flopping down on the divan.

"Okay, we're in private."

"He's not behind the mirror, is he?"

"I wouldn't think so; he was supposed to be going to see Nadir today."

"Good. Sorry. I'm feeling catty. Christine, how did you know you were in love with Erik?"

Christine sighed softly, "It wasn't any one thing, it was a lot of things."

"Like what? I need to know, please."

Christine looked at the forlorn look on her friends face, and her heart ached for her. Meg had always sworn that she didn't want to marry young because she wanted to dance as long as she could, but one look into the bright green eyes told Christine that whoever the young man was, he could have Meg with one word.

Much the same she had felt for Erik, even before she could verbalize the thought.

"When he would be near, my heart would speed up, to the point that sometimes I felt it would beat out of my chest. I used to swear he must be able to hear it, to know how he affected me, for as loud as it was in my own ears. I would get nervous around him, never sure of how to react, always careful of what I said. I didn't know at first that I was in love with him, Meg. I would feel this rush of joy at the first sound of his voice, and it felt at times as if lightning were striking between us. Shivers of anticipation would creep up my spine when he was near. And at times I felt as if my heart were bursting with feelings, flooding my very soul."

"Oh Christine!"

She smiled as she looked at Meg, "Now, who is the lucky man? Don't tell me there's not someone, I can see it in your eyes Meg Giry!"

Meg shook her head, "I can't. He doesn't know how I feel. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't feel the same."

"Oh Meg, how can you be sure? You are a beautiful, talented young woman! Any man would be lucky to have you love him, and how could he not fall in love with you in return?"

"Very easily," Meg muttered. "I think he's got his eyes set on some one else."

Christine reached over and took Meg's hand in her own, squeezing it tightly. "If it's right, if it's meant to be, you'll know Meg. What I just described, it's how you feel when you are near him, isn't it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Christine smiled softly at her friend, "I still don't see how he could not be in love with you, because if he isn't, he's a fool."

"I don't know, the other girl is a very nice girl, she's sweet, she's everything I'm not."

"You are sweet my dear Meg."

"I'm glad at least someone thinks so."

Christine was about to open her mouth when there was a loud knock on the door. So instead of what she was going to say, she called out, "Come in!"

Madame Giry opened the door and glanced between the two young women on the divan before her gaze focused on Meg, "Time's almost up Meg."

"I'll be there in a minute Maman, I promise."

Madame Giry nodded, and instead of shooing Meg along the way she normally would, she left the room quietly, taking care to shut the door behind her.

Christine's brow furrowed slightly, "Is your Maman okay?"

"I don't know, she's been acting strange lately," Meg sighed, and rose from the divan, making her way toward the door. "No matter, I need to get to rehearsal."

"Meg, wait."

Meg spun around just before her hand reached the doorknob.

"I need to ask you something, a favor."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Meg stood outside Christine's dressing room door for a moment before tentatively knocking. When she heard Christine's reply through the heavy wood, she turned the knob, and after a nod from her friend, she went on without preamble, "The earliest that he can meet with you is in a week."

"When?"

"The morning before the Gala."

Christine groaned. "It's one thing to wait that long, Meg. But that morning? Reyer would skin me alive."

"I daresay he would too."

She dropped her head into her hands on the dresser, "What did you tell him?"

"I asked if there was any other time, and he said at least not for another month."

"I don't think I can wait that long."

"I wouldn't be able to either, and figured you wouldn't be able to a'tall.  Does Erik know?"

"No! He's no idea, I cannot tell him, not yet. Meg, please, tell me you understand, tell me you're not going to tell him?"

"I'd have to see him alone to tell him, now wouldn't I? Of course I'm not going to tell him Christine."

"Thank you. Oh Meg, you've no idea how much this means to me!"

Meg smiled, "Oh, I've a feeling I do."

Christine rose and gave her friend a hug, "Of course, I can tell you're just as excited as I am. Oh Meg, if I didn't have anyone to talk to about this . . ."

"You're sure he's not behind the mirror?"

"Positive, he and Nadir are catching up over lunch, Nadir was out yesterday afternoon, of course, Erik didn't give him a clue that he would be stopping by."

  
"We've got to teach that man a few of the social niceties, such as fair warning."

"Now Meg!"

"I'm teasing; I'm in a thoroughly good mood now."

Christine smiled.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to see you yesterday, Erik. It's been too long," Nadir sighed as they sat down in his drawing room. "How was the trip to Rouen?"

"Well, I've some interesting news at any rate. You could have told me Gerard was here in February."

Nadir's dark eyes widened, "He told you?"

"Did you think his insatiable curiosity would stay buried forever?"

"No, I suppose it would not. What did you tell him?"

"The truth or part of it. That Christine and I lived in a house below the opera. Really, Nadir, I wish you had given me fair warning!"

"Gerard worried that if you knew he knew your secret, you wouldn't return to Rouen."

"He . . ." Erik blanched, the uncovered side of his face turning as white as the mask, "he cared enough to . . ."

"Erik, he is your uncle. Granted, I know you've not had much practice with people worrying about you in the past, but that is just what it is, the past. You've got Marie and Gerard, Christine, and . . . we've been friends of a sort for a long time."

"Yes," Erik answered the unspoken question softly. "More than of a sort."

Nadir's lips twisted into a smile. "He cares, Erik. Perhaps, it is time for you to release some of these childish insecurities of yours." He held up a hand when Erik opened his mouth to interrupt, "Let me finish, please. You've been getting better lately, I know you've been eating in restaurants from time to time now, and you've given up harassing the management at every turn, you've turned honest finally, and a lot of that is due to Christine. Don't bother to deny it."

"I wouldn't dare, though I daresay if my wife had heard what you just said, she'd be on top of the world."

"She loves you, you know."

"Yes, and I am thankful every morning that I wake up that she does."

"So why should it surprise you so much that there are others who do care about you. Erik, you are not a pariah, no matter what your mother led you to believe."

"I don't want to talk about my mother, thank you very much."

"Erik, I'm not trying to analyze you. I'm merely trying to help."

"I could do without that type of help.

"Fine then, let's turn our topics to other agendas."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Author's Note: Yes, I know, it's been more than a month since I updated. It's been a very long month to say the least, and for a good part of it I was dealing with a bit of writer's block where Erik and Christine were concerned. However, I hope that you will all forgive my lapse.

And for all of you who have been waiting . . . the Daroga! And a little E/C phluff . . . with more to come!

Riene: Coming from you, that sounds like high praise indeed! And I'm watching my slang more closely once more. Ikes, a 'kinda' slipped in? *Frowns*

Midasgirl: No worries . . . I know I've got a ton of stuff from my favorite authors that I have to read and review still . . . 

TPP: Yes, they are just sooo cute . . . I love writing the E/C Phluff.

Angelofnight: Nope, not gonna kill ya just yet, hmm, maybe if I cross my fingers Lyre will come out of limbo? Glad you're enjoying at least the E/C aspect.

Mel: Glad to have made your day . . . I'm trying to remember, I think I sent you that song, right? I don't know why I'm thinking it bounced a few times . . . anyways, remind me?

Aenigmatic, M. Angelowe, Jenn, Ginny: More coming up!

To all of you who keep asking, which is a lot: As for what I'm doing with Meg and Raoul . . . I've a feeling you're all going to know for sure VERY soon!

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****Stemwinder  **_-----'-----{_******_@_**


	10. Chapter Nine: Forever With Each Breathin...

**Chapter Nine: Forever With Each Breathing**

****

A week later, Christine hummed to herself as she made her way through the streets and returned to the Opera house. All she could hope for was that one person in particular did not notice she had missed practice today. Meg, of course, had been her only confidant in this mission, securing the interview, and promising to make the excuse for Christine to Monsieur Reyer just before rehearsal. Now, if only he had worked through the whole afternoon, he need never know until she was ready to tell him.

The steps of the Palais Garnier loomed ahead of her, and she skipped up them with joy today. The sun was shining along the Paris streets, though even if the weather had been foul, she doubted it would dampen her spirits on this day. Spring was in the very air of the city as flowers bloomed in flowerpots poised in the windows of the many houses she had passed.

Rehearsal was still in session as she entered the auditorium. Monsieur Reyer was working with the chorus for the new production of _Aida_ they would be performing that evening.

Christine began to hum the _Terra, Addio_ from the final scene of _Aida_ while she walked to her dressing room to hang up her cloak. The second she walked in, she could feel him standing behind the mirror, could almost feel the anger pulsating. As her back was turned to the mirror, she shook her head. This would not do. Would not do at all. As she turned back, she gazed at the mirror, wondering if he would show himself, or if he would even speak to her, but then, as suddenly as she'd felt the electricity from behind the mirror which she always felt at his presence, it disappeared. He had turned away and run back down into the labyrinth without as much as a word.

Her lips pursed for a moment in consternation, but then the remembered words from the interview that afternoon came floating back through her mind, and she smiled once more. He would forgive her, of that she was certain. With that thought in mind, she exited the room once more, and headed for the auditorium.

"S'intrecci il loto al lauro sul crin dei vincitori; nembo gentil di fiori stenda sull'armi un vel."

Christine frowned, her ear picking out missed chords and notes from the chorus, and then Reyer's objections.

"I'm giving you all ten minutes, and then I expect you back, and I expect it **_right!_" Reyer shouted as the chorus dispersed. He then turned on the stage, and caught full sight of Christine. "Ah, and our little diva returns," he sneered slightly. "You should have been here at our appointed time, Madame Laramie, for I don't have the time to work with you now. I've got a chorus to straighten out before the gala tonight. If people ask for refunds tonight, I am sure that Messieurs Firmin and Andre would be more than happy to take it out of your pay."**

Christine ducked her head at the rebuke. Reyer had never quite gotten over his dislike for her, and she never stood up to him the way Carlotta used to.

"I do trust, though, that you are ready for tonight?"

"Yes, Monsieur Reyer, I have been practicing evenings."

Reyer rolled his eyes. He had met Erik on one occasion, and could not understand how a man who claimed to be an inventor and an architect could possibly understand the least bit about music, no matter how naturally melodic the man's voice was. He watched the young woman's face, however, and for the first time, saw the confidence that was normally missing there. His own face softened then. "Perhaps, before the chorus returns, you would like to run through the _Terra, Addio?"_

"Yes, Monsieur, I warmed up on the way here" Christine answered. Reyer sat down at the piano, and played the opening, as well as sang Radames' recitative.

"Tu in questa tomba?"

"Presago il core della tua condanna, in questa tomba che per te si apriva io penetrai furtive, E quilontana da ogni umano sguardo, nelle tue braccia desiair morire."

"Morir! Si pura e bella! Morir per me d'amore degli anni tuoi nel fiore fuggir la vita! T'aveva il cielo per l'amor creata, ed io t'uccido per averti amata! No, non morrai! Troppo io t'amai! Troppo sei bella!"

Vedi? Di morte l'angelo radiante a noi si appressa ne adduce a eterni guardii sorva i suoi vanni d'or. Su noi già il ciel dischuidersi. Ivi ogni affanno cessa, ivi comincia l'estasi. D'un immortale amor."

As Christine released the last note, the chorus members began to drift back in. Reyer, hearing this, closed the lid on the piano and turned to Christine.

"Now, if you can sing tonight as well as you just did here, we shall have no problems."

Christine smiled at the repetiteur shyly, "Of course, Monsieur."

Reyer smiled in return, before his face hardened once again, "And do contrive to make it to rehearsal at the appointed time."

Christine blushed, though she recognized the rebuke for what it truly was, a way to save his reputation as a tyrant. "Of course, Monsieur Reyer." With a formal little bow, she hurried off the stage.

"Now," Reyer's voice rang out behind her, "if the lot of you thinks that you are ready to try this again . . ."

Christine shook her head sadly as she walked near the ballet salon. She peered her head in momentarily, and saw Madame Giry walking along the side of the room, stopping occasionally to correct the posture or footwork of one of the petit rats.

"Annelle, straighten your back!" Another few feet, "Therese, you need much work on your arms!" She walked on, past Meg, whose stance was perfection for once, and back around the other side of the room. "That's better, Chantal. Keep it up." A few moments passed in silence, before Madame Giry banged her walking stick on the ground. "Twenty minutes!"

The girls broke formation, and made their way giggling out the door. Meg was the last to leave, and before she could head down the hallway, Christine grabbed her elbow. Meg twirled around and found herself face to face with her friend.

  
"I was wondering if you were back yet!"

"I do believe your mother saw me, or didn't you notice it's not normal break time? Come on," Christine pulled Meg along the corridor, and they found themselves for once not in Christine's dressing room, but in Meg's.

"Should I ask why we're here, when your room is larger?"

"Because I didn't want to take the chance of him being behind the mirror," Christine answered.

Meg rolled her eyes. "So, are you going to tell me how it went?"

"I really oughtn't to, Meg Giry, but since you helped me . . ."

"I'm dying in suspense here, Christine."

Christine's face lit up in a smile, and without another word, Meg was embracing her tightly.

"Oh, is it true?"

"Yes, it's true!"

  
"Oh Christine! Wait, does Erik know anything at all?"

"No, that's why I brought you here. Oh Meg, he knows I wasn't at rehearsal today, of that I am sure."

"You've spoken to him since you returned then?"

"No, I haven't had the chance, but he was behind the mirror when I returned. He didn't say a word though, and I can tell he was angry, but . . . oh, it doesn't matter."

"What do you think he will say when you tell him?"

"I'm not fully sure, but I'm sure he'll be as happy as I am."

"Have you talked about it at all?"

A flash of worry clouded over Christine's face, "No, we haven't but still, he is a man after all, and I'm sure he'll be pleased."

"Oh, I do hope so! I know I am."

"Just not a word to him that you know, do you understand, Meg?"

"Of course, I wouldn't dream of it! Christine, you must tell me his reaction after you tell him!" 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

****

She returned to the dressing room with a smile on her face. The performance had gone better than expected. The chorus, at the last minute, managed to get the music right, the dancing went so well that Madame Giry gave the girls the night off, and Christine, of course, triumphed.

The only thing that could mar her happiness was she knew he was not there behind the mirror. He had not come up behind her, either, as had been a recent habit of his. She sighed, ducked behind the dressing screen, and shed her costume, and emerged in her street clothes once more.

The knock on the door startled her, and she went over to answer it.

The young man stood on the other side, his smile askew, and a flower in his hand. "Hello, Christine."

"Raoul, it's been a while," Christine stepped back and allowed her friend entry into the room.

"I've been away for a while, Philippe sent me to Marseilles. You were radiant out there tonight," he smiled, and attempted to hand her the single rose.

"I can't accept it, Raoul. We had this conversation before I married Erik, didn't we?"

"Yes, I know, you are a married woman now. It was merely a gesture of friendship, I assure you."

"I'll be assured of that once I see that you have found love again, _mon__ ami."_

"In due time, Christine, I am not rushing things, you know."

"I've noticed. It's been a while now, Raoul, and it's not healthy for you to keep throwing yourself into your work like this."

"I never said it was healthy, and perhaps there is someone in my life."

"Oh? I should be glad to hear that. Why isn't she with you tonight, then?"

"Because . . . she . . . um, well . . ."

"Oh Raoul, out with it!"

"Okay, so there isn't yet. I'll know when the right one comes along, Christine, and not before."

Christine shook her head, "Raoul, I know you will. Perhaps I pester a bit much, but it is only because I do care."

"I know you do. Would it help to know that I have seen someone a few times in the past few months?"

"It would make me a little easier, yes. Who is she?"

"No one special. Just a friend, I'm afraid, but we did have a few outings before we realized it would not be more."

"Oh? And who was it that called it off?"

"It was a mutual agreement," Raoul answered and winked, "Turns out she had a calling for the convent."

Christine chuckled.

"You're laughing at me!"

"Not at you, Raoul."

"Well . . . can't say I'm not trying. Actually, it's good to see you laughing." Raoul looked down at the hat he held in his hands. "How are things with you and Erik then?"

"Couldn't be better," Christine answered, and as she did, she felt the presence slide into place behind the mirror.

"Good, I'm glad. Christine, I . . ." Raoul looked down at his hat once more, and then lifted his head to look Christine in the eye. "Christine, I was there, in Rouen."

"I suspected as much," Christine sighed.

"I saw . . . when you and he . . . the whole service."

"How did you find out?"

"Let's not get into that, just let me finish, okay? I know that you are in love with him, even though I had suspected it earlier than that, all my doubts were erased that day in the church. I had thought to go there to object, but when you walked down the aisle towards him that day, the look on your face, Christine, you had _never_ looked at me like that, and on that day, I knew you never would. And I've accepted that you are a married woman now. It's why I didn't come back right away, why I allowed Philippe to send me to Marseilles in the first place. I needed to get away from Paris, away from the possibility of seeing you, until I could chase that feeling out of my heart. I just wanted you to know that."

Christine nodded her acceptance, "I think I knew already, Raoul, but thank you anyway."

The door to the dressing room, which had been open about half-way, opened fully as Meg whirled in. "Christine, are you . . . oh."

"Meg, yes, I'm still here, what is it?"

Meg glanced between Raoul and Christine, and then allowed her gaze to settle on Raoul, "Monsieur le Vicomte."

Raoul smiled softly even at the unfamiliar stiffness in Meg's address, "Mademoiselle Giry."

They stared at each other for a moment before Meg broke the penetrating gaze and turned her attention to Christine, "Nothing horribly pressing, I just wanted to let you know, Maman asked if you could meet us for lunch tomorrow."

"Of course I can," Christine smiled. "One o'clock?"

"Yes, that's what time we'll be taking our afternoon break. What time are you due in with Monsieur Reyer?"

"Julian and I are due for a practice with him at nine, and we're supposed to be done at one for him to work with the chorus, so I'll see you then."

"Yes, I'll see you then," Meg echoed as she took one last look at the Vicomte before exiting the room.

Christine, who'd been watching both Raoul and Meg during the brief interlude, had noticed that Raoul had also been watching her friend, was in fact, still staring out the door.

"Raoul?"

Raoul jumped, and turned back to Christine, "Sorry, I was just thinking."

Christine smiled mischievously, but kept her own council. "It's okay; actually, I need to be going soon."

"Oh, yes, of course," Raoul stammered. "I must be going myself. Philippe is likely to be waiting up, as usual." He took Christine's hand in his own briefly, and gave it a small squeeze before letting go. "_Au revior, mon ami."_

"_Au revior, Raoul," Christine echoed as Raoul made his way out the door. Christine sighed as the door closed, and she turned toward the mirror._

"Dare I ask?" came the otherworldly voice from the other side of the pane of glass.

Christine quirked an eyebrow at the question, "Perhaps I should be asking you? Ask what? Raoul coming here? We've had that discussion already, haven't we Erik?"

"I meant why you missed rehearsal today," Erik answered as the mirror opened, and revealed the man standing behind it, dressed in a fashionable black suit and pristine white dress shirt. He had left the cape behind, but the mask was in its usual place.

"Can we talk about it later?" Christine evaded. She didn't want to discuss it here, in the Opera house, rather in the warm comfort of the drawing room of the house upon the lake.

"How much later?" Erik asked, and she could see the agitated movements of his hands, the movements she knew generally precipitated his worst bouts of anger.

"At home," she murmured, not daring to go near him when he was agitated.

His eyes flashed behind the mask, watching her expression, and knowing that she could sense his anger. He took a deep breath, and calmly unfurled his one hand to reach for her. "Fine," he whispered, and she reached out her own hand to take his as they made their way through the mirror and down to the labyrinth that led to the house beyond the lake.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

****

They entered the house in silence, and Erik helped Christine remove her cloak as if it were any ordinary day returning home. But the air around them was charged with excitement, and fraught with worry. They continued in silence to the drawing room, where Erik made his way to the fireplace, and stoked the fire within. Finally, after a moment, he turned to face his wife, a curious brow cocked behind the mask.

Christine did her best to keep her own emotions in check. This was not the way she wanted to bring about this particular discussion, but she didn't know how to assuage his anger without telling him. She walked over to his stiff, unbending form, and slowly removed the mask.

Erik watched as she removed the mask, the look of confusion mixed with anxiety and anger still present in his eyes, though he schooled his disfigured features into a more calm look.

Christine sighed, knowing this would not be easy. "Can we sit down?"

"Somehow I get the feeling I would prefer to stand," Erik answered contrarily as he crossed his arms.

"Actually, Erik, I think I would much prefer you sitting for this. Please?"

Erik studied her face for a moment, seeing the worry mixed with anxiety in her eyes. She was nervous, that much was for certain, but why? Her face was a bit paler than it had been in quite some time, and he wondered if she wasn't getting outside often enough. Finally, he sighed, and allowed his worry to take over for his anger, and followed her lead to the divan.

Christine sat down next to Erik on the divan, and she took his hand into hers. She studied his hand for a moment, caressing the long, graceful fingers with her much smaller fingers, and finally after a pause looked up at his expectant face.

"I missed rehearsal today because I had an appointment," she started, and her throat tightened.

  
Once again, Erik's eyebrow cocked in question, "An appointment?"

"I didn't want to bring it up until I was absolutely sure, Erik," Christine answered.

The other eyebrow joined the first, though he did not speak. Over the past year, he'd gotten used to his jumping to conclusions where she was concerned, and did not feel like looking the fool this evening.

"I . . . well, I hadn't been feeling all that well the past few weeks, and I . . . I didn't want to worry you, so I . . ." she looked up at Erik again, whose face was now fraught with concern.

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

"I . . ." she glanced down at their joined hands once more, "Erik, you've always been so overprotective of me, and I just didn't want to worry you needlessly, especially since I wasn't sure, so I made an appointment with a doctor."

Erik released her hand, and gently chucked her under the chin with his index finger, guiding her head up so that her eyes met his. As their eyes met, she could see the worry written in his as he said, "Whatever it is, Christine, we'll get through it together."

Christine smiled then as she answered, "Well, I should hope so!"

Erik's eyebrow cocked again, unsure what this new turn of her facial features meant. "Christine, what did the doctor say? How serious is it?"

  
"Well, it's not anything bad; at least I don't think so."

The silence fell on them once more as she played out the suspense, before Erik growled lowly in his throat, a sure sign that he was becoming frustrated again.

The grin on Christine's face widened, "Erik, you're going to be a father."

Erik sputtered, his face going from disbelief, to shock, to . . . to sheer joy. "A father?"

Christine nodded her head, the grin getting larger as a rather dopey grin formed on Erik's lips as well.

"You're . . . you're really . . . oh Christine!" He stood, and helped her up, then drew her into his arms and twirled her laughing figure around the room several times. Then he set her down with the reverence used for fine china. "Wait, should you, I mean, are you . . ."

"Erik, women have been having babies for centuries, no, for millenniums. I'll be fine."

Erik's lips twisted into a smile, and he pulled her to him once more. "A baby," he whispered in awe as he gazed upon his wife's face. "You and I. A baby."

"I take it that you're pleased then?"

"Pleased? I'm . . ." he trailed off as he lowered his head to join his lips to hers. "Ecstatic."

Christine smiled serenely, and locked her gaze with her husband's. They stood there, both feeling like God in his heaven, before the shock wore off Erik, and the smile that had played on his lips suddenly turned to a grim line as a thought occurred to him.

"Christine," he said softly, the question lingering around the edge of his voice.

Her eyes darkened slightly, wondering why the sudden change in mood. For a moment, she had felt the excitement as it coursed through him. Her reply came out slightly strangled, "Erik, is something wrong?"

"Christine, what if . . . if . . ." his tongue stumbled over the question playing around the edges of his mind.

Christine shook her head, unable to understand.

Erik turned away from her, unable to look in her eyes as he asked the question, "What if this baby . . . if he or she has . . ." unable to finish, his hand gestured to his face.

Her mouth widened in an "O" as she watched the short flight of his hand, her confusion suddenly clearing. Straightening her shoulders, she moved to stand before her husband once more, her hand seeking out his. "Erik, no matter what this child looks like, he or she is the living proof of our love. I love you, regardless of your face, you know that, and I would love this baby because he or she is a precious gift, no matter if our child has your face or my face." Her free hand settled lightly on her abdomen, and his other hand joined hers there as the joy alighted in her eyes once more. "Our child, Erik."

The fear still played around Erik's face as he looked upon his wife, the joy radiating out of her. "But if this child has my face, what . . . what will become of it. I . . . I know that perhaps, some things would be different, that unlike . . . you would still love our child, but what of the rest of the world? The hatred that could rain down because he or she may have the face of a . . ."

  
"Erik, please! We've been over this before, that a person is so much more than a face!"

Erik's eyes closed briefly at the sharp sound that came to his wife's voice. Rarely did they argue, but on those few occasions, that was the tone he knew that meant she was getting frustrated, and that an argument could be close at hand.

"Erik, my love, this child, this part of you and of me, whatever it may look like, it has us, and people close to us, who know you for who you are, and do not judge you. Granted, there are a lot of people in this world who are not as . . . enlightened as we are, but with us, Meg, Nadir, Marie, Gerard, Madame Giry, there to show him or her that a face does not make a person . . . the love this child will have . . . oh Erik!"

The hint of a smile began to return to Erik's face as Christine made her point about the people closest to them in their life. "You really think that we have a chance of giving this child a normal life?"

"As close to it as we can."

"I love you."

Christine smiled brightly, "And I you, my love."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

Author's Notes: Look at that, a long chapter! I was so inspired by all the reviews that I just had to post this quickly. Okay, so the secret isn't a secret anymore. Yeah, I know, I was too transparent to drag it out too long.

AngelCeleste85: LOL . . . I review you and get a chapter within a few hours . . . see what happens? Okay, so I had this ready. Writing? Um . . . yeah, I am actually. Hopping back to work m'am! (Hey, if I promise an update sooner on this, can we get an update real soon on "Lachesis"? I'm completely and utterly hooked!)

Krista and Ash: Yup ladies, you were right. I admit to being completely transparent ;)

Mel: Nope, not a month this time, and if the next chapter writes itself . . . not a month next time, though I admit, I've had this one ready since I started, lol! Oh, by the way . . . were you right?

Deirdre:  Here Comes The Bride, eh? Don't know about that yet for Meg and Raoul . . . they've not even kissed yet! *Grins wide*

Angelofnight: Were you right? 

Aenigmatic: Yes, sooner this time, hope that pleases you! No longer anything being kept from Erik. As for my title . . . a little challenge, first person who can figure out where it came from gets a preview of the next chapter before it gets posted!

Jstarz97: I know I'm a little late, but happy birthday!

Aspen: I don't know about Christine swearing up a storm before all is said and done . . . but then you never know. Boy, am I glad that little scene made such an impact on everyone! LOL!

Everyone else I may have missed: Glad you're enjoying! Review if you can, I love feedback ya know, though the story will still go on muse depending ;-)

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****Stemwinder  **_-----'-----{_******_@_**


	11. Chapter Ten: Carefully Everywhere Descen...

**Chapter Ten: Carefully Everywhere Descending**

****

"Erik?"

"Mmm?"

Christine turned herself and supported her weight on her arms, enough that she could see her husband's face.  The room was dark still, but she had to talk to him before she lost her courage, and surely she would if she took the time to light a candle.

"I need to have a talk with Raoul."

Erik's eyes flew wide open and he stared up at her. His voice was edged in ice as he replied, "You've completely lost me my dear."

"It's not what you're thinking at all. But I need to be able to see him, in private, away from the Opera, and since I didn't warn you before I went to see the doctor, I didn't want you to have another shock like that."

"Do I even want to ask why you wish to meet with the Vicomte alone?"

Christine's eyes twinkled with a secret happiness, "Meg is in love with him, Erik."

Erik sat straight up, almost knocking Christine over as he did so. She sat as well, and watched as he leaned over to the bedside table and lit a candle.

"What makes you think that she is in love with the Vicomte?"

"The other day she was asking me what it was like to be in love . . . and she admitted to being in love with someone, and when I saw the two of them together in my dressing room last night, those few moments were so fraught with tension, I'm sure of it."

Erik ran a hand through his already sleep rumpled hair, "So what are you intending to do about it?"

"I want to see how he feels about her . . . not bluntly of course, but I want the chance to see if I'm mistaken that he may care for her, or even more than that."

"Do I have a say in this matter a'tall?"

"No, you don't, but I'd rather go into it with your blessing."

"Do you think he reciprocates Meg's feelings? I've grown fond of her; I'd hate to think the boy might hurt her."

"Erik! Raoul would never intentionally hurt Meg."

"It's that unintentional type of hurting that I'm worried about, Christine."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

She was humming as she walked up the steps of the Palais Garnier the next morning, indeed, she couldn't seem to stop humming or singing in her happiness. The smile on her face widened as she remembered Erik's reaction to the news the night before. She couldn't be more pleased at the way he had taken it. Of course, she had worried a bit when she realized that it was very well possible she was with child, as they had never discussed having children.

His reaction had been more than she could have possibly hoped for. Of course, he worried, should she continue at the Opera house in the meantime? Christine had finally won her point, in that no one knew that she was pregnant yet, that it was still early, and that the doctor had told her that there was no reason she couldn't sing onstage for a while longer.

That had put a little bit of a kink in his mood, as overprotective of her as he'd been, she was sure he would be just as protective of their child. Of course, it could only serve to make him a better father.

She reached her dressing room, and opened the door, only to find it occupied. "Meg!"

"I couldn't wait until lunch," the younger girl smiled. "Did you tell him?"

Yes, I did," Christine smiled. "And he is beyond thrilled. His word was ecstatic."

"Thank goodness," Meg smiled. "When are you going to tell everyone else?"

"Soon enough, Meg, soon enough. The doctor said there was no reason I'd have to leave the Opera just yet."

Meg's face fell a bit at the thought, "After you have the baby, are you coming back?"

Christine's brow furrowed, "Honestly, I haven't decided yet. In a way, I'd like to come back, I enjoy singing, being here, being on stage, but . . . I don't know how things will be different after the baby. I was just so thrilled to know there was a baby that I . . . I didn't think on it."

"Well, you have time to decide, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Christine smiled. "Now, I have to get to practice before Monsieur Reyer has my hide and you . . ." 

"Have to change into my practice clothes before Maman finds me," Meg finished he sentence.

"Exactly."

"I'll see you at one then," Meg whirled out the door.

Christine shook her head at her whirlwind of a friend. She then took paper from the drawer of her dressing table and began to write a letter to Raoul.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

****

The hours with Monsieur Reyer and Julian Martinet, the new tenor, dragged by endlessly. Though the two had developed a repartee, it wasn't the same as singing with Erik. Nothing could compare to that.

"That's enough for now," Reyer finally said just before one. "Now, you two have your rehearsal with the chorus this afternoon, we're reblocking the _Gloria all egito."_

Julian groaned, while Christine merely nodded her head, and the two of them walked offstage together.

"I say Christine," Julian began, "You were starting to look positively green out there. Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine, Julian, merely my breakfast is not agreeing with me."

Julian's brow crinkled with concern. He was a normally jovial young man, the youngest tenor to ever hold a leading role at the Paris Opera. He made friends with everyone, to the lowest of the ballet rats. So when his costar was out of sorts, he would worry about it.

"You're quite sure?"

"Yes, of course. Just you watch, I'll be fine."

"Christine!" Meg called from the end of the hallway.

"Meg Giry to the rescue, eh?" Julian joked as the little ballet girl made her way to Christine's side.

"Hello Julian," Meg smiled.

"Dare I ask what adventures you two ladies have planned today?"

"Merely a lunch date," Christine chuckled, "Hardly an adventure."

"Yes, and Maman will be here any moment, she stayed behind to chastise Annelle for being late to practice." Meg peered down the hall, to see Madame Giry's dark form appear at the other end, "In fact, there she is now."

Julian made a formal little bow, "Then I shall leave my two favorite ladies to their luncheon. Oh, and Christine, eat carefully!" He took off down the hallway.

"Eat carefully?" Meg queried.

"I . . . well; he said I looked green during rehearsal, so I told him my breakfast disagreed with me."

Meg nodded knowingly as Madame Giry approached the two young girls.

"Rue de St. Patrice then ladies?"

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

****

Later that evening, Christine sat in the café, sipping a cup of tea and gazing out the window. She knew that Erik was likely nearby somewhere, watching. She'd managed to slip word to him in between rehearsals to let him know that Raoul had agreed to meet with her.

The door nearly banged open and Raoul rushed to the table, his face a bright shade of red.

"Christine, is everything okay? He didn't . . . hurt you, did he?"

  
"Raoul, Erik did not hurt me, he would_ **never**_ hurt me."

"Well, after that little speech last night about not accepting flowers, I hardly thought you would invite me to tea."

A waitress came over and poured a cup of tea for Raoul without a word, then disappeared into the background.

"Raoul, you are still my friend."

"Yes, always."

"The other night, you joked about seeing a woman who went into a convent, but I get the feeling that when you said you were interested in someone . . . that you were not kidding."

Raoul raised an eyebrow, "Jealous?"

"No!"

"Then why ask like that?"

  
Christine bit her lip as she realized she was very close to blurting out everything she suspected. _This whole situation needs to be handled with a light touch,_ she thought.

"I didn't mean it like that, Raoul, I was just . . . you are still my friend, and I want to see you happy, that's all."

"Does Erik know you are here?"

"Yes, he knows."

"What does he think about that?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders, "He's not angry about it if that is what you are asking."

"I would be," Raoul whispered. "After all, in a way, we were once rivals were we not? We both wanted you. Both loved you. Of course, only one of us could win, is he not worried that I might spirit you away from him?"

"He has no reason to doubt my love for him, Raoul, you can count on that! And I did not ask you here to argue."

"Then why did you want to see me?"

"As a friend, to find out how you are doing, because I do care about you Raoul."

"I'm fine. You shouldn't worry about it; I can take care of myself, Christine."

"I know you can," she laid a hand on his arm, "didn't you once tell me that you would still keep an eye on me, make sure I was doing well, that that is what friends do? That my father would have wished it?"

"Yes, I did say that."

"Well, do you not think he would have wished that I look after you as well?"

"I would have thought he at one time hoped we would marry."

"Yes, I daresay he did, but he was practical enough to know that it was unlikely, given our differing social stature."

"It would not have mattered to me, you know that."  
  


"Yes, I realize that now. Still, you are a friend, and . . . Raoul, you can't shut yourself away from the world forever."

"I haven't been, I assure you. For your information . . ."

"What?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"Raoul, please. It matters. I can see it in your eyes, that there is someone. If you love her, Raoul, go after her with all that you are! Don't let the past, what happened between us, stand in your way."

"You don't understand Christine," he whispered raggedly. "Just as you never had that light in your eyes for me, neither does she. I swear I am destined to love only women who can not reciprocate."

"How can you know she doesn't feel the same?"

"I just know."

"Have you told her how she makes you feel?"

"No. There's no point, Christine," Raoul muttered as he stood. "I need to be going."

He was halfway to the door when Christine called out, "Raoul!"

He turned to face her.

"Don't throw away the possibility of a lifetime and spend it in regret. Just try . . . you never know, perhaps it could be your chance at happiness."

Raoul nodded, still dejected, and made his way out of the café.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

****

The streets of Paris were slick with rain as Meg made her way home later that evening. The lamplight reflected brightly off of the droplets of water and in the puddles near the gutters.

_When he would be near, my heart would speed up, to the point that sometimes I felt it would beat out of my chest. I used to swear he must be able to hear it, to know how he affected me, for as loud as it was in my own ears. I would get nervous around him, never sure of how to react, always careful of what I said. I didn't know at first that I was in love with him. I would feel this rush of joy at the first sound of his voice, and it felt at times as if lightning were striking between us. Shivers of anticipation would creep up my spine when he was near. And at times I felt as if my heart were bursting with feelings, flooding my very soul._

_Christine can not know that is exactly how I feel. What would she think of me if she knew how my heart quickens at the sight of Raoul? She would feel betrayed. She doesn't love him like that, but I know she would feel betrayed. I know in her position I would._

She paused on the bridge that crossed the Seine, looking out over the water. The light drizzle made ringlets in the otherwise calm water, and Meg found herself wishing she could be a drop of rain.

_For a moment to disturb that placid surface before disappearing forever, to become not one, but part of a whole!_

She did not hear the soft footsteps approaching her, did not see the tall form as he came up beside her.

"Meg," Raoul whispered, and she turned to face him.

Silence reigned in an interminable moment, and then she moved closer toward him. He reached out and took her small hand in his own.

"We need to talk." 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

*Author's Notes: Winding down what I think is at the very least either the halfway point or home stretch (depending on the very fickle muses)

L'Ange de Folie: Oops, I let another modernism in? Ikes! You know, Word really needs a check for that kind of stuff ;-)

Mel: I'm not sure yet if the baby will be born in this story or not, my muses have not yet told me . . . actually, they've been way too quiet lately. I think they're struggling with what will be the next scene . . . *bites lip*

And it looks like everyone knew that there was going to be a baby? Oh help, I wasn't very sly about that one then was I?

Awoman: Trying not to keep y'all hanging too long, hoping the next chapter will write itself instead of being such a difficult birth as this one seemed to be.

*Bows gracefully* and to everyone reading, I hope y'all enjoy this little chappie!

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****Stemwinder  **_-----'-----{_******_@___**


	12. Chapter Eleven: Your Eyes Have Their Sil...

**Chapter Eleven: Your Eyes Have Their Silence**

****

"How did it go?" Erik asked quietly as he met Christine outside the café.

"I'm not sure. He seemed so dejected, but I can tell . . . he's in love with her, Erik. I can see it in his eyes as surely as I can see in yours that you love me. I just wish there were something I could do, some way to re-assure them both. I tried with Meg. I tried tonight with Raoul. Oh Erik, it would just be so sad if neither of them took the next step simply out of fear. It would be . . . too much."

"It would be a tragedy, n'est pas?"

"Yes mon ange. It makes me shudder sometimes when I think about what could have been if I'd not had the courage finally to admit that I loved you. Raoul has already lost once, what if he can not find the courage to follow his heart? Or Meg? Oh Erik, what can we do to help them?"

"Ma petite, the only thing I can say now is that we must let nature take her course, as she did with us. Pushing them together if they are not ready will not help matters a'tall, surely you see that?"

She sighed softly, "I do, I just wish . . . I just wish them the happiness I've found with you."

"As do I, Christine, as do I."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

"We need to talk." 

_You don't understand Christine. Just as you never had that light in your eyes for me, neither does she. I swear I am destined to love only women who can not reciprocate_

_Don't throw away the possibility of a lifetime and spend it in regret._

As he looked down into those large eyes, he felt a shimmer of hope. A tiny light shone in them, and he wondered how he'd not seen it before. Then, a small tear trailed down her cheek, and he found his hand reaching up to brush it away.

"This is the moment," she whispered, "where you say it was a fun friendship, but that you are a man of social standing who can not risk being seen with a dancer, n'est pas?"

He shook his head, his voice coming in a whisper, "No, it's not. This is the moment where . . . where I . . ." The words choked in his throat, his thumb rubbing gently across her cheek, following the track of that single tear she'd let escape. "If I were to tell you I'm no longer in love with Christine, that there is someone who . . . who . . . Meg."

"I'm . . . Raoul, I . . ."

"The answer to all my dreams is as close as a touch away," he whispered as he closed the space between them. He heard Meg's breath catch slightly, and prayed he was not overstepping his bounds. "Meg, these past few weeks, they've opened my eyes in a way that a few months ago I'd never have believed possible. What I'm trying to say is . . . I . . . Meg, I've . . ."

"Raoul, I think I understand."

His eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," she breathed as a soft smile lightened up her face. A similar smile appeared on his just before he lowered his head to catch her lips in a gently tentative kiss.

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, clinging tightly to him, and his heart began to race. It was the signal he needed to deepen the kiss, softly at first, gently so as not to scare her away.

As they finally surfaced, a moment of silence passed between them in which they stood there, still clinging to each other and gazing deep, as though they were both trying to find the other's soul.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

****

The day dawned bright as Meg skipped up the steps to the Opera, her heart light. Without a thought, she ran straight to Christine's dressing room, hoping to catch her friend before rehearsals.

"Christine?"

Christine smiled softly as she saw Meg open the door, "You're here early, aren't you?"

"A bit, I had to talk to you before practice."

Christine studied Meg's face for a moment, lingering on her green eyes.

"If you loved someone, really loved someone, but he had been engaged to a friend before, how would you break it to your friend?"

A soft laugh bubbled from Christine's throat, "Am I to take it the two of you have finally talked?"

"What?"

"Raoul, Meg. You're talking about Raoul, are you not?"

Meg blushed brightly, "You knew?"

"I suspected, yes. I could see it in your eyes that you were falling for him when I saw the two of you together in here the other night."

"Oh," Meg whispered. "How do you feel about . . . about . . ."

Christine stood from her dressing table and took Meg's small hands in her own, "Meg, I don't love Raoul, not that way, so don't fret about it. I'm happy that the two of you have found each other. You both need someone to love. Raoul . . . needs someone special and I think that you, my best friend, are more than special enough to hold his heart. You do, you know, hold his heart."

A smile broke across Meg's face, "Last night, Christine, he . . . oh, I didn't believe it was possible, not until that moment he kissed me.

"I could see it in his eyes as he looked at you. He was just as scared as you were, you know."

"He told you?"

"He told me there was someone, he refused to be specific, but he believed, just as you did, that you could not reciprocate his feelings. Oh Meg, I'm so happy that the two of you have talked. I only have one request."

"What is that?"

"That I be the first to know about the wedding, after your mother of course."

"Wedding? Christine, we've not discussed that yet!"

"Oh, but you will, believe me, you will."

"I'm a dancer. He's not said he loves me yet. What would his family . . ."

"He won't care, Meg. He's not that type of aristocrat to care about your social status; he loves you for who you are. Trust in him, Meg, and in yourself. Erase the doubts from your head and give both of you a chance. Oh, I see happiness in your eyes today mon amie."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

****

"Come in," Christine called out as a soft knock sounded on her door.

It had been a grueling performance, where so many things had gone wrong. Falling scenery, half the stage lights had gone out during the second act, and then that moment when Annelle had tripped over that piece of backboard that had been left on the stage after one of the props had fallen. All Christine wanted to do was crawl into a hole, but of course, there would be the usual rush of people backstage after a performance.

Raoul poked his head into the door, "Is it safe?"

Christine laughed softly, "I've been wanting to talk to you."

"Should I ask why? After all, I was a bit short with you the other night."

"You did, but I was getting a bit personal where perhaps I had no right to tread. And besides, shouldn't you be visiting someone about now? After that snafu during the ballet chorus, I daresay she needs the company."

An elegant eyebrow arched as Raoul looked at Christine, incredulous.

"Close your mouth Raoul, you look like a fish out of water. Meg spoke with me this morning before rehearsal. I couldn't be more pleased. Wait, I take that back. I'd be more pleased when you tell her you love her and make sure to invite me to the wedding."

  
"You . . . she . . . my . . . oh. Well then, I guess I can just forget the little speech I was about to give. How did you . . . I mean . . ."

"What, how did I know you're in love with her? It's only written all over your face, Raoul. I could see it clear as day when the two of you were in here. The tension between the two of you, and how you tried to avoid eye contact. It's why I asked all those questions of you at the café. I had to know, to be sure. And when you told me you didn't think she could feel the same, I knew you were in as deep as she is. I would be willing to bet you would go to the ends of the earth for her, just as you once ran into the sea to fetch my scarf for me. Raoul, you and I . . . were childhood playmates, as close as brother and sister, and that is a very special type of devotion in itself, but I daresay what you feel for Meg is a more grown up type of affection, the kind that I . . ."

"That you feel for Erik?" Raoul asked softly.

"Yes, Raoul. The kind I feel for Erik."

"You know, I saw the way you looked at him in Rouen. I can only hope that what Meg and I have . . . can be as strong and as true. I think it is. I feel in my heart it must be. Christine . . . I love her."

"I know you do," Christine replied gently. "You should be telling her that."

Raoul nodded, "I'd come to tell you . . . perhaps to get your blessing as a friend to both of us."

"You have it. A hundred fold, you have it. Now go on, she needs to see you." 

Raoul smiled, and then he was out the door. Once again, Christine was alone.

She stood before the mirror, taking stock in her reflection, when the mirror opened suddenly before her, and Erik stepped out from behind it.

"So you were right. The boy is in love with Meg."

"Head over heels if I do say so myself," Christine grinned as she wrapped her arms around her husband's neck. "Mark my words; there will be a wedding before the year is out."

"He may well desire to court her for a long time. I've heard aristocrats do that even these days."

"Mmmm, sometimes they do, but . . . I think they are both so much in love that they will want to do something about it, very soon. Erik, I can almost hear Madame Giry now. 'You want to do what?' In that sense, I almost do feel sorry for Meg. I know Madame Giry will be thrilled after the shock wears off, but still, that initial reaction . . ."

"Mon amour, it is not for us to worry about. I'm sure Meg can handle her mother's reaction quite nicely. And, might I also add, a nice bit of matchmaking on your part?"

"Why thank you my love," Christine giggled as she gently kissed Erik's lips.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

Meg slipped into the door of the home she shared with her mother, later than she'd ever been before. Quietly, she turned the handle so that the door would not make any noise as she closed it.

When she released the handle, a resounding click rung out in the hallway, and Meg winced at the sound. Still praying that her homecoming had gone by unnoticed, she turned around to where her mother stood in the doorway of the foyer, arms crossed tight over her chest.  
  
"Meg, where have you been? I've been worried sick. You left the Opera without a word or note to let me know you would be late! I'd begun to fear perhaps you'd fallen into the Seine!"

"Maman, I . . . I'm . . . I'm sorry."

Madame Giry's lower lip trembled for an instant, but she quickly took control of her emotions as she bore down upon her daughter, "What has kept you out until nearly three in the morning? You know you have early practice tomorrow. What will people begin to think if you continue to keep these kinds of hours?"

Meg straightened her stance, "Does it matter so much? Maman, I'm fine, there is nothing wrong with me."

"Where were you then?"

"I was . . . I was with . . . I . . ." Meg stuttered, her face turning a bright shade of red. "Oh Maman, I'm fine, isn't that enough?"

Madame Giry shook her head, "Meg, what are you hiding? I know you didn't spend the evening with Christine and Erik; you'd have at least left a note if you had. What in Heaven's name is going on with you child? The past few days you've been floating around the place with your head in the clouds."

"I suppose I have," she muttered as she turned to stare out the parlor window. "Oh Maman, have you ever been in love? I mean, really in love? With someone who loves you just as much in return?"

"Meg, I don't . . ."

"Please, Maman, I have to know if you understand what I am feeling right now."

"Meg, what has this got to do with where you . . . oh Meg, no. _No."_

"Maman . . ."

"Who is he? What has he done to you?"

"Maman . . ."

"Meg Giry, what have you done?"

"Maman, I haven't done anything! I've been completely above reproach, I swear it."

"You've . . . but you . . ."

"Maman, just because I'm in love with someone, doesn't mean we've acted on it," Meg answered softly.

"Who is he, Meg. Where did you meet him? What are his . . . his intentions?"

Meg smiled, "Raoul, Maman, its Raoul."

"The Vicomte?"

"Yes, Maman."

"Meg . . . he's an aristocrat. When they have an interest in a chorus girl, or a ballerina, there is only one thing on their minds."

"Raoul is different, Maman. If you could only just talk to him, get to know him as I have this past month, you'd see that as I do."

Madame Giry shook her head, "Meg, if you just look, I'm sure you will see this as I do. He's only after one thing, Meg, and it's not your hand or your heart."

"You're wrong, Maman," Meg cried. "You're wrong, and I'm going to prove it!"

"Meg!" Madame Giry cried out as Meg wrenched the front door open, but it was too late, for Meg was already out the door, her skirts flying around her ankles as she ran down the street.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@___**

*Author's Note: Yes, I know it's been a long time since I managed to update. Between writers block, net problems, and a crazy work schedule, as well as various other commitments this holiday season, I wasn't able to finish this as quickly as I would have liked. However, as a Christmas Present to all of you, here is the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy it!

Fireblade K'Chona: If you're asking about my pen-name, it comes from my "other obsession" which is Scarecrow and Mrs. King . . . it's the name of my favorite episode from that show. As when I first started posing on ff.net it was in that fandom, it seemed appropriate to choose a name from my fanfiction start.

Aspen: It would be a little hard to bring back that "I can't have him/her" feel to Christine and Erik now, and I fear I just got rid of that feeling with Meg and Raoul ::: sighs ::: we can't have it all, n'est pas? Guess I'm just going to have to work harder on the "Newlywed spirit" instead.

Midasgirl: I can say the same! I'm hoping now that I've rediscovered "An Everfixed Mark" that there will be an update with lightning speed? Either on that or "The Heart Is Slow To Learn"? I'm hanging on pins and needles for both! As for making Raoul happy . . . you're wish is my command. And in the face of a master like yourself, I feel honored that I wrote your favorite Raoul line ever!

Jstarz927, Aenigmatic, Awoman, and Erin: Well, I've taken care of the cliffie . . . let me know what you thought of the rest of the conversation!

To anyone I may have forgotten or who is reading but has not reviewed: Hope you enjoy this new chapter! And now, time to disappear and work on the next one.

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****_  Stemwinder  -----'-----{@_**


	13. Chapter 12: In Your Most Frail Gesture

**Chapter Twelve: In Your Most Frail Gesture**

Meg Giry slipped quietly into the Opera house as the morning sun began to arise in the east, her dress wrinkled from hours of walking on her own throughout the silent night.

_'You're wrong, Maman. You're wrong, and I'm going to prove it!'_

Her emotions still high from the confrontation with her mother only hours before, and exhausted from no sleep, she slipped quietly into a familiar dressing room. Not her own, but one belonging to the one person she thought she could speak to about this. One person who could understand her plight, who could help her out of this jam she seemed to find herself in. Perhaps, the person who could offer her refuge.

She sat down on the small divan, and soon sleep had overtaken her tired form.

****

******_-----,-----_****_ -----'-----_**

"I'm frantic, Christine. I know how Erik feels about me contacting you like this, but I'm positively frantic. I can't think where she could have gotten to!"

"You're sure she was to meet you this morning?"

"Yes, we'd arranged it last night, shortly before I left her at home," Raoul's brow furrowed as he looked down on his childhood friend. "I went to her house, but no one was there. And then I came straight here, I peeked into the ballet practice room, but though Madame Giry is there, formidable as ever, Meg was not." Raoul shook his head, "The woman does not like me that much is certain. I gather she and Meg had words last night, for she told me to stay away from her daughter, she didn't need the likes of me sniffing around Meg's skirts!"

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, I . . . couldn't. She then continued that it was all my fault if she never spoke to her daughter again and I had best remember that, whatever may happen. Then she turned her back on me and went about scolding the petite rats."

"I've not seen Meg today either," Christine said softly, "And I stopped by her dressing room shortly before hurrying to rehearsal myself. I was running late so I didn't even have a chance to stop by . . . stop by . . . Raoul, maybe . . ."

"What is it?"

"She knows how to work the . . . the . . . Raoul, um," Christine stuttered, wondering just how much information she should impart. "If she's smart, she may have gone . . . to . . . perhaps we just missed each other. Erik only showed us both shortly after we returned."

"Gone where, Christine? I have to know she's okay, there's so much I still have not said . . ."

"You've still not told her you love her, have you?"

Raoul blushed, "I was planning on taking her to dinner tonight, and . . ." he paused, and took a tiny box out of his pocket. His brow was lined with worry as he stared down at the box, "I wanted to make it official, you see. I lost you . . . I didn't want to lose her."

Christine pursed her lips, "You went to a lot of trouble for this, didn't you?"

He nodded, "I did."

She laid a gentle hand on his sleeve, "I can't have you carrying tales to anyone, Raoul, if I trust you, please? It's still not safe for Erik and I to reveal all our secrets."

"You think she went down below?"

"She may have."

"I wasn't sure if the two of you were still there or not," Raoul muttered. "I'll not out your precious Erik, I just need to find Meg, to make sure she's okay."

"And I agree," a deep voice spoke from behind them. Christine jumped slightly before she turned to see the tall masked man behind her. Raoul tensed, and turned slower.

"Erik," Christine whispered softly, "sometimes I think I ought to put a bell on you so that you can't sneak up on me like that!" Then she grinned as he did at her gentle teasing, taking his outstretched hand.

The two men eyed each other warily for a moment before Raoul broke the gaze. Erik felt a tiny moment of triumph before he turned back to Christine.

"There are quite a few passages that Meg could have found herself down."

"Well, if anyone knows this opera house, it's you. Where do we start?"

"I can tell you one thing at least, she's not . . . at the house."

Christine nodded solemnly, "Did you come in the front door or the back?"

Erik arched a brow, "The front." He then shrugged, "I didn't expect to find you near your dressing room, actually. We'll start there, she knows . . . how to . . . work the . . ." he paused again, eyeing the Vicomte warily, "I guard my house well, Monsieur. It would not do for you to attempt to follow this road on your own, you understand? I have no issue with your friendship with my wife so long as you remember; she is my wife, mind you. And so long as you do nothing to damage Meg, I have no issue with your relationship with her, either. You do understand?"

Raoul nodded, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Without another word, Erik turned, his cape flaring, and the three of them made their way toward Christine's dressing room.

Christine was the first to enter, and paid no attention to her surroundings as she moved to the mirror. Erik came through the door second, and stopped suddenly when he saw the woman asleep on the divan, as Raoul nearly pounded into his back.

"Christine," Erik said softly, "I don't think there is any reason to show the Vicomte any further.

Christine turned, "What do you mean?"

At which Erik nodded toward the divan in the far corner, about the same moment that Raoul found his way from behind Erik.

"Meg!" Raoul gasped as he hurried to the side of the divan, his hand gently brushing a hair from her eyes. Pale green eyes which gently fluttered to wakefulness, gazing up at the young Vicomte.

"Raoul," she whispered softly, stretching out the aches in her muscles from lying in such a cramped position for so long. "What are you . . . I mean . . . oh my! How long have I been asleep? I completely forgot after last night, oh Raoul, I'm so sorry."

"Shh, no need to be sorry Meg, I'm just glad you're all right," Raoul answered quietly. "When you weren't at the café this morning, I was afraid something had happened."

Meg shook her head sadly, "Maman and I argued when I arrived home, she was still awake. I couldn't stay, Raoul, it was . . . she was . . . it was horrible. And I didn't know where else to go, but I needed to speak to Christine." She glanced over to her friend, and then realized with a start that not only was Christine there, but so was Erik. Her eyes darted between Erik and Raoul, noting the stiff stance of the former, and the concerned stance of the latter. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"It'll keep, now that I know you're all right," Raoul repeated as his hand brushed Meg's cheek again.

"Meg," Christine cut in, "why didn't you come to the house?"

Meg looked to Christine again, "I didn't wish to wake the two of you, and I didn't have time to bring a lantern."

Christine nodded, and with a glance to Erik and back, continued, "If you need some time away from your mother, you know you're welcome to stay with us."

Meg's eyes darted between Erik and Christine again, and at Erik's nod, she replied, "Thank you."

Raoul stiffened, but didn't say a word as he shot a knowing glance toward Christine.

"Erik," Christine whispered near her husband's ear, "perhaps we should leave them alone for a few minutes?"

Erik arched a brow behind the mask, but did not say a word as he took his wife's hand and led her into the hallway.

"Are you sure about staying . . . with . . ." Raoul's face paled as he tried to ask the question without giving away how much he knew. Things he was not sure that Meg knew.

"If it's Erik you're worried about, you needn't worry Raoul. Maman has met him as I have, and he escorted me to the wedding in Rouen. I've stayed the night there before on occasion. He's not as dangerous as he was made out to be."

Raoul shook his head, "I wouldn't know. I only know a few things that Christine told me."

_"You told me about the murders, remember?" he had whispered, sotto voce. "Do you really think that I could forget that, no matter how wrong I may have been for trying to shoot the man in the back?"_

"Raoul? I don't understand."

Raoul looked at her, the worry still written on his face, "It's up to Christine and Erik if they are to tell you, not me. I promised her."

Meg furrowed a brow, "You almost look as if someone died."

"Um, no, it's . . . I'm probably over reacting, that's . . . all."

Meg wasn't convinced, but didn't say another word, merely took his hand.

__

******_-----,-----_****_ -----'-----_**

"Well?" Christine asked softly as Erik closed the latch on the mirror.

"She's getting ready for her evening with the Vicomte," he replied, moving to place his hands gently on Christine's shoulders as she turned back to the vanity to finish preparing her makeup for the performance that evening.

"Did you have a chance to see Madame Giry at all?"

Erik nodded, "I slipped out for a bit earlier while Meg was sleeping, and told her not to worry, that we'd watch over Meg until things between the two of them calmed down."

"How did she take it?"

"She's vehemently opposed to Meg's relationship with the Vicomte, Christine. She fears he's only after her for one thing."

Christine groaned, "Raoul is not like that!"

Erik flinched for a second before regaining his composure, "I would never imply he was mon amour, merely stating one person's opinion."

Christine turned and stood to face her husband, her hand flittering up to cup his cheek, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sniped."

Erik smiled gently down on her, his eyes dancing, "I on the other hand . . ."

Her jaw dropped as she realized his intent, even as her body relaxed against his, fitting together in perfect harmony. "I imagine your thoughts are anything but pure."

"As the driven snow," Erik laughed softly, his lips beginning their descent to meet hers and drive all other thought from her head.

****

******_-----,-----_****_ -----'-----_**

Every few minutes, he would catch her looking toward the door.

_'Perhaps picking a café which is so close to her home was a mistake,' _Raoul thought wryly as he ran a hand through his thick hair. He'd requested a table near the front window, which though one would think it would be the height of activity, he'd picked because it was a more quiet corner of the restaurant. The waiter had brought their wine and their dinner with due speed, but all through the evening, he could not help but notice Meg's distraction.

_'Perhaps I should have asked Madame Giry's blessing first'_ he thought with a flash of nerves. _'The way she keeps looking out that window . . . was this a mistake? Have I been mistaken in her feelings for me? Perhaps she doesn't feel quite the same as I do. Perhaps . . .'_

Meg's head turned as Raoul let out a low breath, her green eyes wide as she looked to the man who sat before her.

_'I've not been the best company tonight,'_ she thought. _'Here he's been trying to hold up a pleasant conversation, and I keep looking toward home. Oh Raoul, I'm sorry that I've let this battle with Maman affect our evening! If I only knew what to do to make it better . . .'_

Their eyes met, and held together fast. Blue upon green, for a silent moment before Meg smiled.

"I've not been the best company tonight," she began, echoing her thoughts from a moment ago.

Raoul reached out, and grasped her left hand from across the table, "You've a lot on your mind, and perhaps I did not pick the best place to come to dinner. I know you came here often with your Maman."

Meg nodded, "Yes, we did."

_'You're wrong, Maman. You're wrong, and I'm going to prove it!'_

The words echoed through her mind again, over and over, her last shouts, as she looked at the man across the table from her. His tender kisses the night before had excited a need in her, but a part of her still needed to know, needed to ask.

_'God help me if Maman is right.'_

"Meg," Raoul said quietly, squeezing her hand. "If you like, we can go somewhere else."

"No," Meg replied quickly. "No . . . it's fine, I'm . . . I'm sorry."

Raoul smiled as her lips tilted up into a shy smile, and gently kissed her hand. Then his eyes darkened as he looked at her, and he took a deep breath as a violinist came up to the table, and began to serenade them. Meg's smile brightened as she looked up, and then back at Raoul. He moved closer to her, and reached into his pocket.

"Meg," he began. "I wanted to tell you that this time getting to know you has been the best time of my life."

_'He's going to tell me it's over. He's going to tell me I was just a fling.'_

He scooted off the chair, and dropped down to one knee before her as her eyes widened. Her hand was encapsulated within his own.

_'Oh my.'_

"I'd wanted to go about this the proper way, asking your mother's permission first. I was going to try to catch her at the Opera this morning, but after last night, I thought perhaps I should assure you of my intentions first and perhaps if you are willing, go to her together." He held out a hand, palm up, before her. "On my hand is this polished silver tray and on the tray is my heart. I'm giving it to you. It's a little beaten, but it's bursting with love for you. My question to you is - do you want it? Will you stand by my side for the rest of our lives, as my wife?"

****

******_-----,-----_****_ -----'-----_**

Author's Note

It's been a while.

I admit between working full time, and many, MANY Phantom trips Grins wickedly and just real life, I've not been able to write as much in this story as I'd wanted to. Plus ever persistent writer's block. Finally I think I scraped together this chapter, though it seemed to stop and start over the past year.

Anyway . . . too all of you who have waited for over a year (and to all the newcomers to this story I've noticed since my last visit to the review section) I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Hopefully those pesky muses of mine will be nice and will help me out with the next one. Grins

Oh! The website question. Yes, I know the site that was listed at the end of "Love Comes" is down . . . and sadly, it's going to stay that way . . . but for those of you who asked, and wanted to see the steamier ending, you can find Love Comes, and most of my other Phantom Phics, on my new website: Stemwinder -----'----- 


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